Stories Threaded through Ashes of Red
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: "You will be my best friend forever, right..." At 6, their simple game of house set off a chain of events that would dictate their lives, though neither knew it. It would chart the paths they would take, & seal the fates of their own flesh & blood. But in the end, after the dust settled & the game ended, they'd come out stronger for it, wouldn't they? McGiva. Sequel to GOL & SWK.
1. Chapter 1

**Stories Threaded through Ashes of Red**

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Summary: "You will be my best friend forever, right..." At six-years-old, their simple game of house set off a chain of events that would dictate their lives, though neither knew it. It would chart the paths they would take, and seal the fates of their own flesh and blood. But in the end, after the dust settled and the game ended, they'd come out stronger for it, wouldn't they? McGiva. Sequel to_ Game of Love_ and _Started With a Kiss_. Enjoy.- Licia**

_Washington, D.C.,_

_The Navy Yard,_

_2029_

"I wonder who the new director's going to be? God, I hope it's not Jarvis, he's such a bast-"

"Jarvis is the new SecNav, Tony. And I agree, but he's not the new director. Trust me."

"But how can you be _sure_, McGee?" Tim looked up from his work; Tony leaned back in his chair, tossing a baseball into the air and catching it.

"Isn't it obvious, Tony? If Jarvis were the new director, he'd be here by now-"

"I think it is Vance." Ziva announced, taking a sip of her coffee. Tony caught the baseball, sitting up.

"Vance? That pompous, overachieving-" But both Tim and Ziva slid their hands across their throats, having suddenly lost their voices.

"Pompous and overachieving what, Agent DiNozzo?" Tony turned, to find Vance standing behind the partition behind his desk.

"Did I say pompous and overachieving? I... I meant... particularly... outstanding..." He stopped, when Vance raised an eyebrow and then turned on his heel.

"Consider this a warning, Agent DiNozzo." Once he was gone, Tony relaxed, sinking back into his chair.

"Thanks for backing me up, you two." He muttered, returning to tossing his baseball.

Jenny had been killed in a shootout with a group of... well, to be honest, _no one_ was really sure who had killed Jenny... out in the Nevada desert a few months earlier. Since then, the agency had been getting used to the search for a new director, and had finally settled on former Agent Leon Vance- the first African American Director of the agency. Of course, his first course of action had been to try and split the MCRT up- sending Tim to Cyber Crimes and Tony to Agent Afloat, and_ trying_\- unsuccessfully- to send Ziva back to Israel. Of course, once Gibbs realized, he'd put his foot down, informing Vance that Ziva had been an American citizen since two-thousand-fourteen. He'd then managed- using his 'Gibbs powers' as Tony often joked- to get Tim back from Cyber Crimes and Tony from Agent Afloat.

That had been two weeks ago, and the team had since fallen back into their old routines, as though no time had passed at all.

"Either of you heard from Cookie recently?" Tony asked, tossing the ball to Ziva, who quickly threw it back; the ball bounced off the wall behind him, narrowly missing Tony's ear. "Jeez, no need to be so rough, Momma Mossad."

The Israeli glared at him, before sitting back and taking a sip of her coffee. "No, we have not heard from_ Shirah_." Ziva replied; only Tony called their oldest daughter 'Cookie'- for some unknown reason that neither could figure out and that Tony wouldn't- or couldn't- explain. Born in late two-thousand-nine, a few months after her mother's Aunt Nettie passed away, Shirah was the oldest of Tim and Ziva's three daughters, an archaeology student at Tel Aviv University, on a full scholarship in her great-aunt's name. The twenty-year-old had come home for Hanukkah and Christmas, and then returned to Israel for school.

The elevator doors opened and Gibbs came out, coffee in hand. He took a seat at his desk; cold cases had filled the day, and the team- or, the three younger members of the team- were dying for a case, anything to get them out of the monotony of rechecking facts that had already been checked a thousand times-

Once more, the elevator doors dinged open, but none of them looked up. Footsteps quickly made their way across the carpeted floor, before stopping in the bullpen. Someone cleared their throat, and Tony looked up. "Yon-Yon!" He leapt to his feet, moving quickly around his desk towards the eighteen-year-old.

"Hi Uncle Tony." Yonah, Tim and Ziva's middle daughter, wrapped the agent in a hug, allowing him to lift her slightly off the ground. A recent high school graduate, Yoni- as her friends and family called her- had decided on a degree in social work... but more along the lines of international aide. Though she had originally considered a career in the arts- for she and both her sisters had inherited their mother's voice- the girl had left the performing to her baby sister.

"Where's Nara?" Tony asked, setting the girl back on her feet.

"Where do you think? Down at check-in, trying to get Mick to give her her guitar back."

"Why does your sister insist on carrying that thing around anyway?" Tony asked, referring to the acoustic Gibbs had made the girl for her thirteenth birthday.

Nara had loved it, and immediately started lessons, forcing her parents and sisters to suffer through the wrong notes, untuned chords and occasional relief as a string snapped- which immediately prompted the girl to break down and come running to her father, begging for him to take it to Gibbs so he could fix it for her, the man was that skilled with his hands. But now, at sixteen, the baby of the family was actually pretty good. So good- and brilliant- she'd graduated high school a year early, as her father had, and somehow managed to get into the American Academy of Performing Arts in New York.

"Because she insists that when 'inspiration strikes then she needs to be able to play it.'" Yoni replied, air-quoting her sister with a sarcastic roll of her grey-green eyes. "I do not see why she cannot just write everything down, it would be much easier."

"Because I do not like writing everything down. Shi is the writer, not me." Yoni turned as the girl in question hurried toward her, guitar case in hand. After giving Tony a quick hug, she made her way to Gibbs's desk, laying the case on the floor and opening it up. She then held the guitar out to him; one string had curled back on itself, having snapped at some point. "Can you fix it, Gibbs? Please?"

The Team Leader chuckled, reaching for the guitar and case. "I'll see what I can do, kiddo." Nara instantly relaxed.

"_Toda_." Once relieved, she rushed to her father, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "_Shalom, Abba_." She then bounded over to Ziva, doing the same. "_Ima_, do you know when Shi is coming home?"

Ziva turned to her daughter as Tony returned to his seat; Yoni followed, perching on the edge of his desk. She worried her lip briefly, glancing at Tim, who sighed and sat back. "I don't think Shirah's going to be able to make it home, girls." He replied, getting up and going to Ziva's desk. Yoni raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure,_ Abba_?" She asked, playing innocent. Tim glanced at her as she got up, going to him. He wrapped her in a hug, kissing her forehead.

"Of course I'm sure, baby girl." Neither Tim nor Ziva heard the elevator doors open and someone get out. Yoni snuggled into her father's side, glancing at Nara.

"But are you absolutely, positively,_ completely_ sure that Shi is not coming home, _Abba_?"

Tim furrowed a brow, glancing quickly at his wife before pulling away from his middle daughter. "Of course I'm-"

Ziva choked on a gasp, causing Tim to turn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**A/N: I'm getting to be as bad as Zani. But this idea has been buzzing around in my head since I started this series, so I figured I'd try it. If you don't have any interest in it, I can take it down.- Licia**

**Thanks to MusicWithinMe and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 1.**

"Shirah? Oh,_ ktana_!"

"_Shalom, Ima._"

Tim watched as his wife hurried to their oldest daughter, pulling the girl into a hug. After several minutes, the girl pulled away, pressing a kiss to each of her mother's cheeks before making her way towards him. He couldn't believe it.

She was darker than normal, thanks to the heat of the Israeli sun, and she'd chopped off her hair; those long, beautiful dark locks Ziva used to braid were gone, now curling under at her shoulders. She'd filled out a little more, gaining more of her mother's figure and less of her girlishness, but her eyes- the beautiful, grey-green eyes all his babies possessed were still the same. In a pair of cargo pants and a blue tank top, a light jacket open on her small frame, her short hair held back with a grey headscarf, she looked exactly as her mother had when she'd walked into the bullpen twenty-two years ago.

She was twenty-_ when_ had his _baby girl_ turned_ twenty_? How many hours had he spent at that desk in the bullpen, or out on a scene, to not notice that his babies were getting older? In the course of a few milliseconds, he'd blinked and Shirah had gone from nursing at her mother's breast to going on excavations with her classmates in Israel... somewhere, in the years that had passed, his firstborn baby had decided she didn't need her parents to hold her hands or her sisters to compete with anymore. She'd grown up, changing into a beautiful young woman that stole his breath away.

"Are you going to just stand there or hug me? _Abba?_"

He blinked, and the little girl with the braids he'd been picturing was gone, his oldest daughter, all grown up, in her place. He took a deep breath, giving her a small smile and holding out his arms. "Come here, _katan_." Shirah still wasn't too old to race into her father's arms and throw her arms around his neck, as she'd done when she was little.

Instantly, the tears hit, streaming down her cheeks as the realization that she was home with her family- even if only for a little while- struck. Israel was so far away from Washington, D.C., after all. "_Abba, ani mitga'a'ga'at lecha._"

He chuckled, lifting her a few inches off the ground. "I missed you too, baby girl." Finally, he set her down, stepping back to study her. "God, look at you." Silently, Shirah reached up, tugging the scarf off and tucking a few flyaway strands behind her ears. "You cut your hair?" She nodded.

"Do you like it,_ Abba_?"

He reached up, cradling her cheek. "_Yafeh, katan_. _Absolutely_ beautiful." Shirah beamed, wrapping her arms around him again and snuggling into him. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, relishing the feel of her in his arms again.

"So how long are you home for, Cookie?" Tony asked, getting up and bounding over to the oldest girl. Slowly, Shirah pulled away from her father, going to the older agent.

"The month. Winter break- well, winter here, not really winter there." She giggled, as Tony wrapped her in a hug.

"Israel does not have winter." Ziva added.

"Or spring." Tim said, sliding his arm around his wife's waist when Ziva joined him. Gibbs, however, hadn't moved from his desk. He was watching as the team embraced the older girl, delighted to have her back. He'd welcome Shirah once her family finished-

"Why are you so tan, Shi?" Nara asked, sliding her arms around her sister's waist. Shirah pulled away, narrowing her gaze.

"Why are you so _white_?" Both Tim and Tony snorted, unable to contain their laughter.

"Oh grow up, both of you." Ziva replied, smacking her husband lightly on the arm. Tim held up his hands, stepping back.

"It's good to have you home, Shiraleh."

"_Toda, Abba_."

When the team finally settled down, Tony and Tim made a quick run for coffee, leaving Ziva and the girls with Gibbs. Shirah peeled off her jacket, dropping it on her father's chair before going to Gibbs's desk. She stopped shrugging. "Hi, Gibbs." The team leader looked up from his work, his blue eyes taking in the young woman before him- the same young woman he'd watched grow within her mother, who'd scared them all when she was born early, who'd been his charge when she had chicken pox and who'd run to him whenever she'd fought with her parents and couldn't get a hold of Abby, Jimmy or Tony.

Without a word, the Team Leader stood, moving around his desk towards her. He wrapped her in a hug, kissing the top of her head. "Hey, kiddo." She wrapped her arms tight around him, nuzzling into his chest, relaxed. For Gibbs could relax and calm her just as _Abba_ could- both possessed the same silent strength. "Glad you're home."

They pulled away as Tim and Tony returned, coffee in hand. Once the drinks were handed out, the bullpen settled down- as much as it could, with three growing girls visiting. Nara sat beside her sisters, her homework forgotten in favor of the mail she'd managed to snag from her mailbox when Yoni had picked her up so they could drive back down to D.C. and get Shirah from the airport- Yoni had been up visiting her baby sister in New York, for all of their winter breaks managed to hit at the same time.

Silence filled the bullpen before a high-pitched scream suddenly cut through the air. Instantly, all three of Gibbs's agents clambered to their feet, guns out and at the ready. _"I got it! I got the part!"_ It was just Nara-

_"What?"_

"What the_ hell_-"

The teenager climbed to her feet, rushing to her father as he put his gun away. _"Abba, I got the part!"_

"What part, Naraleh?" The girl shoved the notice underneath her father's nose, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

"Aziza. I am going to be playing Aziza in the _Dovekeepers_!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 2. **

"Whoa, slow down,_ katan_. Start from the beginning." Ziva climbed to her feet, joining her husband. She took the notice, reading it silently. It took a few minutes, but finally the girl was able to calm down enough to explain as her family gathered around her.

"Okay, Lizbeth, my cinema professor at AADA, she heard about this audition in Hollywood looking for four women to play the lead roles."

"What roles?" Shirah asked, crossing her arms. Call her skeptical, but she wasn't going to allow her baby sister to be taken in by some scam.

"Oh _relax_, Shi. It is completely legitimate. AADA checks out everything thoroughly before they allow it to be brought up to the classes. Anyway, they are turning_ The Dovekeepers_ into a feature film, and they did a_ nationwide search_ for actresses to play the four main roles. So Lizbeth had all of the girls in her class make an audition tape and send it in to the director- this was months ago that we did these auditions and sent them in. Anyway, we had to do two- most girls did auditions for Yael and Aziza, but I did an audition for Shirah and Aziza- because they're my favorite, and I got_ cast as Aziza! Oh, Abba, please say I can!_"

"Aziza?" Shirah cut off her sister, thinking. Tim opened his mouth, but kept quiet, knowing that Shirah would most likely interrupt him. "Yeah, I cannot see you as the healer. You are definitely the_ warrior's_ daughter." She turned to her mother, who blushed. "Though _Ima... Ima_ could play the healer."

Ziva shot her oldest daughter a look that screamed_ Don't go there_. Shirah returned it with a look of her own.

"So can I,_ Abba_? Please? Pretty please?"

Tim glanced at his wife, who shrugged. "Let _Ima_ and I discuss it and if we agree, then you may."

Nara let out a squeal, throwing her arms around her father. _"Toda, Abba! Toda!"_

After dinner, the girls went to bed early- all exhausted from the trip- leaving only their parents up. It had been a cold case day, so Gibbs had sent Tim and Ziva home so they could spend some time with their girls. Vance, who had still been an agent when Ziva joined the team, had allowed it, watching from the catwalk as the girls latched onto their parents' hands, chattering away. When they returned home, the girls dropped their things by the door, as they were used to doing, and followed their parents into the kitchen. The apartment hadn't changed in the two years since Shirah had left for college, and even though Nara was in New York and Yoni was at the University of D.C., the girls still managed to come home whenever they could.

After pouring a couple glasses of wine, Ziva tugged Tim back to the bedroom, sliding a hand down his chest and abs towards the zipper and button of his jeans. Once among the pillows and blankets of their bed, she moved to straddle his waist, pushing his shirt up and leaning down to kiss the soft skin of his stomach. Her fingers soon worked the zipper down and the button free, moving the garment down his body until she could toss it to the floor. His hands moved to tug the shirt she wore over her head; it barely missed the wine glasses sitting on the nightstand.

When they finally managed to catch their breath a couple hours later, Ziva nuzzled against Tim's chest, her fingers curling around his. Tim relaxed, pressing a kiss to his wife's dark curls as his fingers began to play with hers. "What do we do about Naraleh? She _really_ wants to do this, Tim. How do we tell her no?"

He sighed, running his fingers through those tangled curls he loved so much. "I don't know... but Nara said that AADA checks out every audition offer they get. And she showed me everything when we got home... I can have Tony run a background check on the director and the rest of the crew, but I think it's legitimate, baby. She got a part in a movie... and she's only sixteen."

"You were sixteen when you came to the States." Ziva replied, looking up at him. "That was... a million miles away and... you left me in Israel..."

"Nara will not be as far away. She'll be in California, and if we need to, I'll get G or Kensi or Sam to keep an eye on her. Maybe even Hetty. And if I have to, I'll get in contact with Cross and O'Reilly and Bet up in Seattle, have them come down to L.A. and keep an eye on her."

Slowly, Ziva pushed herself up, meeting his gaze. "So... let me get this straight, Tim. You are... _agreeing_ to let our_ sixteen-year-old_ performing arts college daughter to take part in a _movie_?" He groaned softly, running a hand over his face. "What do we do?"

Tim met her gaze. "Can we really tell her no, Ziva? She's as stubborn as humanly possible-"

"As bull-bottomed as her _Abba_." Ziva added.

"Headed, baby. Bull-_headed_." His wife wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, that too." Tim rolled his eyes, chuckling.

"So... are we _really_ going to agree to this?" He asked, as his wife propped her head on her elbow. "We're going to allow our daughter to take a role in a major film?"

Ziva thought a moment, pursing her lips. It took all Tim had not to capture her chin and tug her into his arms. A moment passed, before she nodded, scooting closer until she was lying atop his chest, her chin resting on her folded arms. "I think we are, baby."

Tim sighed, nodding after a moment. "Okay."

"_Really? You really mean it, Abba? I can do the movie?_" The pair turned as Nara darted into the room; she'd gotten up for a glass of water, stopping when she heard them talking, and had hidden behind the closed door, eavesdropping. Now though, she hurried to her parents, climbing up onto the bed to kiss them both on the cheek. "_Toda, Abba, toda Ima_!"

Once she was gone, Tim glanced at his wife. "She needs to stop hanging out with Tony when she's home."

Ziva chuckled. "Oh, admit it, baby, you wouldn't have_ either_ Tony or Naraleh any other way."


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

"_Abba_, wait up!"

Tim stopped, turning back to see Yoni rushing to catch up. "I thought you were going to sleep in, _katan_. You said last night that you weren't interested in running with your old man anymore."

The eighteen-year-old raised an eyebrow in an eerie imitation of her mother. "Why would I not go running with you,_ Abba_? I love going running with you." She threw her arms around him when she got close enough.

They stopped at the bakery when they finished their run, taking seats at one of the small tables in the corner of the cafe area. Mr. Rosenthal had passed a few years earlier, leaving his wife and children to run the bakery. The mugs were warm against their hands, and the smell of fresh baked_ babkas_ wafting through the building. The small bakery and cafe had become Tim and Yoni's place- over the last couple of years, they often took an hour or two and spent time in the cafe area; the girl could tell her father things that she didn't feel comfortable talking to Ziva about. Unlike her fiery mother and older sister, who often allowed their actions to dictate her decisions, Yoni often thought before she acted. Shirah usually joked that she didn't understand how Yoni could be her sister- for there was so much water in her that they had almost nothing in common but looks- if even that.

As she'd gotten older, Yoni's hair had lightened to a rich, almost mocha brown with natural caramel highlights. Her grey-green eyes were the same, and she'd filled out, gaining more of her mother's figure as she got older, though she was still the same calm, relaxed girl Ziva had given birth to eighteen years earlier.

Slowly, she looked up at her father. "What?"

Tim shrugged, wrinkling his nose. "Nothing, I just... can't believe how much you've grown in the last couple years. Really makes me feel old." He chuckled. Silently, Yonah reached out, taking his hand.

"You are not old, _Abba_."

"Well, toda, katan."

"You are just..." Yoni stopped, thinking. She bit her lip, glancing at her cup. "Just... like a good bottle of whiskey." Tim raised an eyebrow. "Getting better as the years go."

"Gibbs tell you that?" She giggled, shaking her head.

"No. But it is true about Gibbs and it is true about you and Uncle Tony and Uncle Jimmy and Auntie Abby and Si-si and Ducky and_ Ima_..."

"Okay, I get it. We're all older. And as we get older, your mother gets more gorgeous every day." He replied, taking a sip of his coffee. Yoni grinned, wrinkling her stub of a nose.

"_Ima is_ pretty,_ ken_?"

"Gorgeous. Always has been. From the moment I met her, even though back then I would never admit it."

Yoni cocked her head. "When did you and _Ima_ meet, _Abba_?"

He sighed, setting his mug down. "We were... six. _Saba_ John was Ambassador to Israel. When we arrived,_ Saba_ Eli and _Savta_ Rivka met us at the airport with Uncle Ari and_ Aintin_ Tali and _Ima_ to welcome us..." He chuckled at the memory. "Anyway, _Ima_ told me she thought I was cute, and I called her stupid and pulled her hair. In retaliation, she punched me."

_"Wait, Ima punched you?" _

Tim nodded. "To be fair, I deserved it. It took _Saba_ John and _Saba_ Eli thirty minutes to separate us, and when they did, I had a black eye, and I'd managed to give _Ima_ a fat lip." Yoni laughed, stopping when she let out a snort. Tim chuckled; so much like her mother.

"So... when did you realize that you loved her?" Her father shrugged.

"I guess... when I was about sixteen. That was when I started to realize that I was in love with _Ima_\- and that she was in love with me." He stopped, meeting his daughter's gaze. "Why all the sudden interest in _Ima_ and I?"

It was Yoni's turn to shrug. "I just... want to know more about you two." She wrapped her hands around her mug again, falling quiet. "You have always been Abba and Ima to me. I do not... truly know who you are." Her father studied her for a moment, before holding out a hand. She glanced at it, confused.

"Tim."

The girl grinned, her tongue peeking out between her teeth briefly as she took his hand in hers. "_Shalom_, Tim. I am Yonah. Yonah McGee." He raised an eyebrow as they shook hands.

"McGee? Talk about a small world. My last name is_ also_ McGee."

Yonah raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "You do look familiar." As they broke contact, Tim replied,

"You could be my daughter."

She laughed. "Do I?" He nodded.

"_Ken_. You could be my wife's younger sister." The girl raised an eyebrow.

"She must be very pretty then, your wife."

Tim chuckled, setting his cup down. "Gorgeous." He then reached over, brushing an eyelash off his daughter's cheek. "Like you." The girl caught his hand, pressing his palm against her cheek and breathing in the scent of his hands; the lotion he used steadied the frantic beat of her heart, the feel of his palm against her cheek grounding her, bringing a comfort she'd missed desperately since starting college. Though she loved _Ima_, it was_ Abba_ she most connected with. Perhaps it was the water in her- that perfectly matched the flow of the water in him. There were times when she didn't understand how he and _Ima_ ever got along with each other; for the water in him would certainly cancel out the fire in her. But somehow, someway, they worked.

_Abba_ and _Ima_ had always worked.

She got up, moving around the table to press a kiss to his cheek. "I love you, _Abba_."

"Love you too, baby girl." Once Yoni sat back down, she wrapped her hands around her mug, taking a deep breath. "Everything okay, Yonaleh?" Slowly, she met his gaze, taking a deep breath.

"I... I have something important to tell you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

Something twisted in Tim's stomach, knotting painfully.

_Go with your gut. _

He swallowed. _Easier said than done, Gibbs. This isn't your daughter._ "Yonah Si_â_n, I swear to God, if you're pregnant, your mother and I-"

She quickly waved away his worries. "God, _Abba, no!_ I am _not_ pregnant. I do not even have a boyfriend! No, it... it is something else." She began, biting her lip.

"Yonah?"

"There is this... opportunity... in Syria..."

"Opportunity?" She nodded. "What kind of opportunity?"

The girl swallowed. "It... it is to help... rebuild schools and provide... food and clothing and resources for people in Syria, and my International Humanity professor said it would be a really good opportunity-"

Tim held up a hand. "So... let me get this straight. You want to go to_ Syria_ to help provide humanitarian aid?" The girl nodded.

Three hours later, Yoni found herself sitting at the dining room table, a cup of tea in front of her. Her sisters had been ordered to the other room, leaving the eighteen-year-old alone in the dining room. Her parents were currently in the hallway off the kitchen and dining room, arguing at the top of their lungs- since, when it came to arguments, neither Tim nor Ziva knew how to be quiet.

Nara poked her head into the dining room. "They still fighting?"

"Can you_ not_ hear them, Nar?" The sixteen-year-old made a face.

"The whole D.C. _area_ can hear them-" Both girls glanced back towards the hallway.

_"I am not sending my daughter into Syria, Timothy! She could get herself killed!"_

_"She could get herself killed here, or in Germany or London or wherever else she decides to go! Just as we could every time we go out on a case! That's life, Ziva! Sometimes you don't come home alive!"_

_"But this Syria, Tim! Syria! That is an entirely different country to America! Or Israel, even!"_

_"You're right, it is, but different to America. But not to Israel. Ziva, baby, we survived Palestinian drone strikes and Hamas bombings and turned out okay. Didn't we?"_

_"Yes, but... that was the eighties, Tim! And the early nineties! There were no nuclear weapons then! Not as many, anyway! And ISIS was not as major a threat as it is now! Baby, they have completely taken over Syria- we cannot allow our daughter to go there, she will never come out alive! We will be sending her to her grave! Tim, please, listen to me!" _

_"Ziva, we have no say anymore! We can tell her no, but we both know that she's going to make up her mind and go anyway! We can't stop her, she's a grown woman!" _

_"No, Shirah is a grown woman! Yoni is a child! And she is putting herself at risk by even considering this!" _

_"Ziva..." _

_"I am not... going to lose another... family member to... terrorists..."_

_"God, Ziva! That's not going to happen!" _

_"You do not know that! I did not know that Tali was going to die that afternoon in Tel Aviv! Or that Ima would never come back from Amman! Or that your mother would never step off Flight Eleven! I did not know-"_

_"Ziva, you wouldn't have been to protect them even if you had known-"_

Nara turned from the argument when she heard someone knock on the door. Without a word, the girl got up, answering it. She started, surprised. "Um... hey Gibbs. What... what are you doing..."

"Need to talk to your parents, kiddo."

Shirah furrowed a brow. "About... what?" But the Team Leader moved past her, towards the kitchen. Tim and Ziva had moved from the hallway into the kitchen, their argument still continuing. Ziva slammed her coffee cup down on the counter; it didn't shatter, but hot water sloshed over the rim onto her hands, not that she noticed. Shirah and Nara followed Gibbs as he made his way into the kitchen, and Yoni looked up from where she sat at the dining room table- for both dining and kitchen were one room, separated by a good amount of space.

Without a word, the Team Leader stalked towards their parents, snapping both his agents smartly on the back of the head. The pair stopped arguing, jolting forward briefly before turning to their boss. "I saw that. Why'd you give her the soft touch?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow and tapped Tim lightly on the back of the head again. "Thank you, Boss."

"Why... what are you doing here, Gibbs?" Ziva asked, glancing around him to Shirah, who shrugged. Their boss didn't reply, just studied them both.

"They have been fighting since_ Abba_ and Yoni returned from their run." Shirah said, leaning against the counter. Ziva turned to her oldest.

"Did you call _Gibbs_ on us?"

"We did not have to, _Ima_." Nara added, joining her sister. "He could probably hear you all the way in Silver Spring."

"They could probably hear you arguing clear in _L.A._" Shirah added.

"We do _not argue, Shirah Kathleen_!" Tim snapped.

"Then fight." The girl corrected.

"We do not _fight_!" Ziva turned to their firstborn. "We are just..." She glanced at Tim and Gibbs. "_Very loud_!"

"Right." Yoni cut her mother off, getting up from her chair, though she didn't dare leave the table. Not that either Tim or Ziva would actually hurt her, but better safe than sorry. "And _you_! How could you _do this to me_? I told you_ this morning, Abba_, and you come home and tell _Ima immediately_! _This is why I did not want to tell you in the first place!_"

"Your mother _needed_ to know, Yonah! She's your_ mother_, for_ God's sake_!"

"Well I am an adult, and I am going-"

"See what we have been listening too all morning, Gibbs? For the last_ three_ hours." Shirah asked, causing the older man to turn. The older man raised an eyebrow, turning to his agents. Ziva had crossed her arms over her chest, and Tim had his hands in his pockets; neither were making eye contact. He then glanced back at the girls.

"Sit. All of you." Without a word, Shirah and Nara joined Yoni at the table, but their parents didn't move.

A swipe to the back of their heads quickly remedied the situation.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 3, 4 and 5.**

"_Syria, really_, Yonah? Are you _Meh'sho'ga_ or are you just _tipesh_?"

"I am_ not crazy_ and I am not _stupid either_,_ Ima_. I know what I am doing! This is through the Islamic Relief Organization, _Ima_! This is a good cause! Every year, they choose six students from D.C. U. to go with them, and they picked me! I am going!"

"You could get hurt, or killed... either... a roadside bomb or a raid or a suicide bomber... a Palestinian drone strike-"

"This is _not Israel, Ima_! This is_ America_! We have choices here! We do not join the army at eighteen unless we _want_ to! We did not grow up in Israel like you and _Abba_ did, because you did not want us to! So you need to... _get it together!_ I am_ going_ to Syria to help, and you cannot stop me!_ I am eighteen, I can do what I want!_" And without another word, the girl stood, storming out of the dining room. Her bedroom door slammed, causing all but Gibbs to jump.

Without a word, the older man got up, slipping down the hall towards Yonah's room. He slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind him. "I am not changing my mind, Gibbs." He took a seat beside her on the bed, silent. "I am going to Syria to help. I am eighteen-years old, Gibbs, I can make my own decisions. I do not understand why _Ima_ and _Abba_ cannot understand that." She sniffled, glancing over her shoulder at the older man. "They were already having sex at my age- hell, they were having sex at Nar's age." Though Tim hadn't said anything, Yoni had been able to put together the pieces that morning when he'd talked about realizing when he was in love with Ziva.

"Times were different then, kiddo." Gibbs replied, reaching up to run his fingers through Yoni's hair. He'd had a feeling that "Your parents were growing up in a time when they didn't know if they'd wake up to see the next morning. I don't know much 'bout Israeli-Palestine relations, but I do know that the nineties were not a good time to be living in either Israel or Palestine. They made a lot of their choices based on the amount of time they thought they had left. They were teenagers."

"_Ima_ and _Abba_ were never teenagers."

He chuckled. "They were just like you and your sisters were. Wild, impulsive... more out of control than any of you. You give them even less credit than they give you."

She glanced at him over her shoulder again. "How would you know?"

Gibbs shrugged. "They were just as impulsive when they each joined my team as they were when they were children. It's their personalities, kiddo. They're a little older, a little wiser, but still the same. They both still gang up on Tony and tolerate Abby, and your mother still gets her idioms wrong, even though she's known the proper sayings for years; she mainly does it to mess with Tony. There's a lot you don't know about your parents; don't judge them until you get the whole picture."

A moment passed, before Yoni shifted to face him. "I just... tired of being treated like a child. Shi's studying in Israel, and Nar's going to be allowed to go all the way to L.A. for that movie, but when I get an offer to go to Syria to help, they tell me no. They treat me like a child, but let my sisters do what they want. It is not fair."

"I think, Yonah, that your parents are just being protective. They've always been protective- of all three of you."

"Then why not tell Nar no? She is the baby, she is not supposed to get what she wants." She glanced at Gibbs, sighing. A moment passed, before the older man returned to stroking her hair.

"Syria's a dangerous place, kid. I understand their concern. And Israel isn't exactly safe, but your mother has contacts that can keep an eye on Shirah, and the L.A. team will keep a handle on Nara. But in Syria, there's no one they can trust to look out for you." He met the girl's gaze. "You need to look at it this way- they're fighting you on this because they want to make sure that you're not going to budge on this. Once they're comfortable with the fact that you aren't going to change your mind, then they'll come around."

"Come around?_ Ima_ and _Abba_ do not come around, Gibbs. They are like you."

"Yes, they do. Just give them a couple days to sleep on it. Okay?" A moment passed before the girl nodded, and Gibbs leaned down, pressing a kiss to her head, satisfied. He then left the room, shutting the door softly behind himself as he made his way into the living. Shirah and Nara were peeking around the bookcase that served as a doorway to the study area, and after a moment, Gibbs strode into the study, to find his agents staring at each other, both refusing to give in. Tim was lounging in the desk chair and Ziva was sitting on the reading nook, knees pulled to her chest. The couple locked eyes, an entire conversation passing between them in complete silence.

Without a word, he went to first time and then Ziva, smacking each on the head-

"I saw that. Why'd you give her the soft touch?" Gibbs turned to glare at Tim, who narrowed his gaze before jolting forward again. "Thank you, Boss." The older man nodded, turning to see Shirah and Nara watching from the doorway. The meaning was clear; he wanted to talk to their parents alone.

"Come on, Nar, how about we go check on Yoni?" Shirah took her sister's arm.

"I do not want to-"

"_Come on_!" Once Shirah had tugged her away, Gibbs turned back to his agents.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 6.**

"I am not going to lose another family member, Gibbs, and _certainly not_ my daughter."

"She's _eighteen_, Ziva. We can't tell her what to do anymore."

"I _do not_ _care_, Tim! I lost my sister and my mother to suicide bombings-"

"You lost both Tali and Ari to _sniper bullets_." He corrected; for though Tim didn't want to admit it, the training Gibbs had pushed on him when he first joined the team was reminiscent of sniper training. He could kill a man with a single shot if need be- and often times, when the case called for it, he did. Tim was a brilliant marksman- he rivaled even his wife in sharpshooting, and that was something, considering it was Ziva he was married to. Not that his wife seemed to care much in regards to marksmanship; Ziva was a sucker for combat- hand-to-hand more than anything- and oftentimes, she usually ended up winning the mock battles she and Tim got into when they spent time at the gym. Because, unlike Tony, who _looked_ his age, both Tim and Ziva still looked as though they were in their late twenties or early thirties.

She turned to him, meeting her husband's gaze; Ziva still hadn't moved from the reading nook, and Tim refused to give up the chair, not that Gibbs cared. Instead, the Team Leader was leaning against the wall, listening to the argument; occasionally, he would interject, however, he spent the majority of the time listening as his agents tried to work out a compromise when it came to their middle child.

Though Tim was right; Yoni wasn't a child- none of the girls were, no matter how much their parents and the team wanted to think of them as- and she could make her own decisions. And clearly, she'd made her mind up about Syria.

Ziva turned her head, and it was then that Gibbs caught sight of the tears glistening on her cheeks. "She is my baby, Tim. She does not understand the ways of the world, or the dangers that can steal her breath without a hint of notice. I carried her for thirty-six weeks, and it took fourteen hours for that girl to enter the world, and I am not going to lose her to the violence in Syria! I understand that Yonah wants to do good, but she can go so many other places that need help!" The Israeli stopped, gathering her thoughts. "Mexico, or... India or... any country in Africa... anywhere but Syria, please, Gibbs! Smack some sense into her!"

"Talk, Ziva, the phrase is talk some sense, not smack." Tim corrected.

_"No,_ I _mean_ smack, Timothy! She needs to understand that she could get herself killed if she goes over there-"

"You think I do not _realize_ that?" The pair looked up to see Yoni come into the study, eyes red and hair a mess. She swallowed, glancing at her parents each in turn. "You think I do not understand what I am getting myself into? I have done the research, I have talked to former students of Professor Marsden's that have been over in Syria, and the places they go are the most desperate- they need schools and clothing and food and... and I can help! Professor M. will be there with us- I am _eighteen, Abba_!_ You cannot tell me what to do anymore!_"

Without a word, Gibbs made his way to Yoni, pushing her gently to the reading nook. The girl dropped onto the other side, moving as close to the wall as she could to avoid her mother. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, right now, you are pouting like a_ six-year-old_, Yonah." Ziva muttered, glancing at her daughter. The girl narrowed her eyes.

"You let Shi go to Israel, and told Nar that she can go clear to L.A.- to be in a _movie_\- but when I want to go to Syria and help, _you_ tell_ me no_! How is that_ fair_, _Ima_? It is a... a complete..._ triple standard_!"

"Double, Yonah. The term is _double_ standard."

"_Shut up, Timothy_!" Ziva snapped, turning to face her daughter.

"Why don't you_ butt out,_ Ziva? She's eighteen; according to American law, Yonah is an adult, we have _no say_ in what she does with her life anymore."

"But we are her_ parents_, Tim-"

"_That doesn't matter!_ Not in the eyes of American society! She's an adult, and we can't stop her-"

"You are just as opposed to her going as _I_ am-"

"I know I am, but-"

First Ziva and then Tim jolted forward, eyes closing at the contact. Yoni watched as her parents each shook their heads to clear themselves before they opened their eyes. Gibbs studied his agents; he understood the fear they held onto- he wasn't to proud to admit that he had that exact same fear jolt through him whenever they walked into a scene that was going awry... he'd had that same fear when Kelly was alive, and when the girls were caught up in the shooting at their school- it was a parents' worst nightmare come to life, the knowing that while their kids would be as safe as they could, something could always go wrong-

"Let me talk to your parents, kiddo." Yoni didn't move; Gibbs turned to her. "_Now_." Without a word, the girl got up, leaving the study with a quick glance back. Once she was gone, Gibbs took a seat beside Ziva, beckoning Tim over to them. The trio huddled together in a campfire, the two agents waiting silently for the leader of their team to speak. The older agent glanced at his two youngest each in turn- unlike Tony and Abby, who still possessed a certain innocence about them, his youngest children had seen horrors, had witnessed death and pain and things no one should witness. Both of his youngest kids were jaded to the kindness of the world- while they acted often times as children, their playfulness hid painful pasts.

"Gibbs-"

"If she goes, then she will need to be properly trained. We can do that. I can do that-"

"No, Gibbs-"

The older agent held up a hand, silencing Ziva. "I will personally take over her training. And what I can't teach her, you both can. You are just as skilled in combat as I am, maybe more so. She needs survival training, to know how to act in a dangerous situation, how to handle and fire a gun properly, how to handle a knife..." His agents shared a glance. "If she's _properly trained, properly equipped_, will you both consider allowing her to go? I understand that she's your child, Tim, Ziva, but if she meets_ my_ requirements, will you allow her?"

His agents locked eyes, a million conversations from brown eyes to green and back in the course of a few seconds.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

Yoni looked up; she sat curled up on her parents' bed, Nara snuggled into her side and her own head in Shirah's lap. Gibbs gently pushed both Tim and Ziva into the room before stepping in after them, silent. Slowly, Shirah and Nara looked up, all waiting. Tim sighed, hands in his pockets. "You may go... to Syria, Yonaleh." The girl let out a squeal, bounding off the bed and into her parents' arms. "But only- _only on one condition_."

"Anything,_ Abba_!" She cried, pulling away after wrapping him in a hug.

"You are to take training. _Abba_ and I will not allow you to go unless you are properly prepared. That means combat training, survival training, how to properly handle and fire a gun, how to use a knife properly-" Ziva stopped when she noticed the girl glance between her and her father. "We will train you, _ken_, some, but Gibbs," She glanced back at their leader. "Will take over the majority of your training. If you successfully meet all of Gibbs's requirements, then you may go."

Gibbs stayed for dinner that night; over baked _forel _atop_ Mujaddara_\- a dish of baked lentils and rice- and chicken soup- that which had been a recipe of Kathleen's, Shirah explained how classes were going and what it was like to live with a roommate on campus. Nara talked of her dance classes and acting classes and the song each was to compose for her musicality class; though she had no idea how to start or where to even begin.

Though the older man wasn't entirely used to dinner at the McGees, he was used to it enough that he knew Tim and Ziva kept as kosher as they possibly could; no pork, mainly, but the one time Ducky had invited everyone over for Christmas and had served a traditional Scottish rabbit stew, Ziva and the girls- and even Tim and Sarah, which surprised everyone but Ducky- declined the stew, opting instead for the Shepherd's pie. What had surprised everyone was that _Tim_ and _Sarah_ had declined the stew as well, despite the fact that they weren't Jewish.

However, Ducky had explained that because Tim and Sarah had grown up in Israel, and often- as the three siblings confirmed- had dinner with the _Da_vids and vice versa, that they had probably grown up without such a staple in their diets, opting instead for fish or something else to fill the void, and so most likely didn't miss such a product. In truth, the only 'pork' Tim and Sarah had ever really consumed was blood sausage and sage- a recipe of their great-grandmother Bridget's that Kathleen had learned as a child growing up in Ireland. They remembered helping their mother make the- to them- treat in Israel, with the only portion of the pig used being the blood.

While their choice that Christmas dinner had baffled both Tony and Abby, Gibbs had understood. Though not_ technically_ Jewish or of the Jewish faith, Tim and Sarah had been raised around it, immersed in it; they had grown up around_ Shabbat_ and _Shiva_ and _Hanukkah_. They had attended synagogue with Ziva and her family, just as Ziva had attended church with them. They had observed _Passover, Rosh Hashanah_ and _Yom Kippur_, just as Ziva and her family had observed Lent and Christmas and Easter. It was as much a part of them to observe kosher- even limited as it was- as it was for Gibbs to build boats in his basement.

Now though, the Team Leader watched from his place between Shirah and Nara as the family chatted around the table; Tim and Ziva shared a glance, before he leaned over, stealing a soft kiss from his wife- clearly, the two had made up in the time since Gibbs's chat with them and dinner. The girls giggled, rolling their eyes and making faces at their parents; of which, Ziva retaliated by sticking her tongue out playfully at her girls, which Shirah returned. The older man found it amusing that the little girls he'd watch grow- pretty much from conception on- could revert back to children, despite their ages. But then again, Gibbs mused, look at their parents.

Tim and Ziva shared a glance, before he leaned over, whispering something that made her snort softly and giggle, her nose wrinkling. She met his gaze, teeth sliding out to catch her bottom lip. The girls watched curiously as their parents engaged in soft conversation, heads bent together over the dinner table, occasional glances towards them or Gibbs being thrown. Without a word, Ziva leaned close, whispering something to her husband before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Tim whispered something back, and the two burst into soft laughter.

"What is so funny? _Abba_?" Tim met Shirah's gaze, and after a moment, he shook his head.

"Nothing, Shiraleh."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "_Ima_?"

But Ziva just bit her lip, glancing at her husband out of the corner of her eye. "It is... an outside joke, _ktana_."

"Inside, baby. An inside joke." The two laughed softly, sharing glances over the meal. Shirah turned to Gibbs, but he just shook his head, as in the dark as she was.

Two hours later, after dinner and the dishes had been placed in the sink, Gibbs lounged in the armchair as Tim pulled Ziva into his side on the sofa. Nara had perched on the arm of the chair, and Shirah was sitting on the floor, back against the sofa, one of her archaeology books in her lap. Yoni was lying on the floor, a blanket around herself and a pillow clutched in her arms. All three had glasses of wine sitting on the coffee table, and Shirah eyed her mother's with curiosity. She marked her page and set it aside, crawling towards the table-

Ziva gently smacked her daughter, sending the girl forward briefly. "Hey! What was that for?" Nara snorted at the octaves her sister's voice rose- she reminded the girl briefly of Elmo. Gibbs chuckled softly.

"You are not allowed to have alcohol. None of you are."

The girl huffed, watching as her mother picked up the glass and took a sip. "You know that the legal drinking age in Israel is eighteen, right Ima?" Her mother nodded, taking another sip from the glass.

"_Ken_, I know. Because unlike_ Abba_ and Si-si, I did not _drink_ until eighteen. But here, the legal drinking age is twenty-one."

"Which I will _be_ in-"

"It does not matter, Shiraleh. When your birthday rolls around, _then_ you may have a drink, but not before." The girl glared at her mother, before turning to Gibbs, who shrugged.

"Rules are rules, kiddo."

"Well, they do not need it!" Shirah replied, nodding towards her parents. "We _know_ what they are going to do, and they do not exactly need wine for that activity."

"Maybe not, _ktana_, but wine makes that activity_ so _much more fun." Ziva replied, grinning at her daughter over the rim of her wine glass.


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

_Washington, D.C.,_

_The Navy Yard,_

_Six Weeks Later_

"Again."

"Gibbs, I am tired."

"Again."

"I am _tired_."

"_Again_."

"What part of tired do you _not_ understand?"

"Again, kid."

The eighteen-year-old wiped at the perspiration on her forehead, turning to search for her parents. They were down in the NCIS gym; Gibbs had decided that today would be a close combat day- when Yonah had followed her parents into the bullpen that morning- thanks to a campus holiday- the Team Leader had decided that it would be a good idea if they all took a cold case day and got some combat practice in. Of course, as soon as they'd entered the gym, Tony and her parents had disappeared, leaving the teenager with Gibbs.

And since Shirah had returned to Israel to start the new semester, and Nara had caught a flight to L.A. a week earlier, that left Yoni to begin her combat training, on Gibbs's orders.

Someone landed hard on the mat outside the boxing area, and Yoni looked up to see her mother straddling Tony, tugging his arms behind his back. Her father was kneeling not far from the pair, spotting the older man, not that he needed to; Tony was pretty much tied up at the moment. Without a word, the senior agent managed to get a leg up, hitting Ziva in the ass and sending her over his head. Instantly, the older agent scrambled to hold the Israeli down, his legs at her hips and his hands holding her arms above her head.

"You have been holding back, Tony." Ziva raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Tony chuckled nervously; he usually didn't go to hard on Ziva- partially because she was the youngest- and only female- agent on the team, and partially because she was... well, Tim's wife. "Well... for one, you're... Tim's..." She glanced at her husband, who raised an eyebrow. "And, also because you're... well..."

"A girl?" Tim filled in; Tony swallowed as Ziva locked eyes with her husband.

"Hey, baby, do I look like a girl to you?" The junior agent chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"All I see right now are two NCIS special agents." She grinned, her nose wrinkling in silent delight when Tim caught on to what she was planning. The junior agent stood, backing away and placing his hands on his hips.

"Me too."

With a wince, he turned to his partner. "Hope you wore a cup, Tony."

The older man glanced at his partner, giving him a quick, snide smile. "Funny, McG-" He let out a squeal of surprised pain as Ziva kneed him hard in the groin, getting out of the way as the senior agent crumpled to his knees. Tim hissed.

"Even I felt that."

Ziva chuckled, going to her husband and slinging an arm around his neck, pulling him close. "I would never do such a thing to you, baby. You gave me our girls, why would I do something as painful as that to the man who gave me three of the most beautiful babies in the D.C., area?" She kissed him softly, slowly, before pulling away. "Besides, Tony deserved it."

"What did he do now?"

She shrugged. "He has not done anything yet. That was for whatever stupid thing he will try to do to us later." She glanced back at Tony, who had finally managed to pick himself up off the floor. "You had better get ice, Tony." She then took Tim's hand, tugging him onto the mat. "Come on, baby. You and me. I promise, I will go easy on you." Ziva quickly dropped into a soft ready stance; Tim raised an eyebrow.

"You? Go easy on me? Oh, _no_. We go all out or not at all." He mirrored her stance. "We're grappling today."

Ziva raised one slender eyebrow. "If you are sure, baby."

Neither noticed as Yoni slipped out of the boxing ring, joining Tony on the bench to watch her parents.

In a matter of minutes, Ziva's back hit the mat and Tim was on top of her, pinning her down. And just as quickly, she was back on her feet. Yoni watched, completely taken in by how well her parents seemed to block each others' advances-

"I... did not know they could-" She stopped, and Tony glanced at her, giving her a weak smile.

"Your parents are pretty damn good at this sort of thing, Yon-Yon. But then again, your momma's former Mossad, and, I have a feeling, that despite your daddy's MIT-John Hopkins education, that he probably learned a few things from Momma Ninja over there. Which means you should have too." Yoni shrugged, leaning into Tony's side when he held out an arm.

"I am not like either_ Ima_ or _Abba_, or even my sisters. I do not fit into my own family. If I do not fit into my own family, how am I going to fit into a place like Syria, or and organization, or even life, Uncle Tony?" He glanced at the girl.

"You fit into your family, Yon-Yon, trust me, you do. You have a _lot_ of your daddy in you, and... some of your momma." Tony cocked his head to the side. "You're more like your daddy, though; though you do have your momma's beauty. Except for your eyes- your eyes are all McGee." Yoni smiled softly, resting her head on her uncle's shoulder.

Ziva slammed onto the mat, finding herself once more pinned beneath her husband. "You wore a cup, right, Tim?" He leaned down, his silky lips brushing against her ear.

"Unlike Tony, I learned early to protect myself when I play with you." She grinned, meeting his gaze. In one swift move, Ziva sent her husband careening over her head onto the mat; she stood, foot going to his throat. It momentarily stunned Tim, before he was able to grab her ankle and throw her. By the time they finished, both were out of breath; Ziva's ponytail had come loose and her shirt had ridden up, revealing a thin strip of stomach- and a naval piercing she'd gotten on a whim in Cairo, when she'd met Jenny, before coming to America. Of course, she'd removed the piercing with each pregnancy, having it re-pierced a few months after Nara had been born. The small Jewish Star dangled from her naval, the tiny gold trinket another reminder of her heritage, like the star around her neck. Yoni's gaze went to the body jewelry, confused. There was so little that she actually knew about her parents-

She decided, then and there, to discover more about the couple who'd given her and her sisters life before she left for Syria.

"So, how did boxing with Gibbs go,_ ktana_?" Ziva asked, grabbing a towel off the bench and quickly wiping at her neck. Yoni sat up, turning as Gibbs joined them. Ziva's eyebrows rose. "That is part of our deal, Yonaleh." She tossed the towel back onto the bench, going to her daughter and catching her chin. "I suggest you do as Gibbs wants, if you want to go to Syria." She then pressed a kiss to her daughter's lips before pulling away and turning to Tim. "I am going to go take a shower. Care to join me, Timothy?"

Without a word, Tim turned back to his daughter, nodding towards Gibbs before taking his wife's hand and allowing her to tug him towards the showers. Yoni turned back to Gibbs, who waited for her. With a sigh and a quick squeeze from Tony, she got up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 7, 8 and 9.**

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

Shirah looked up from her homework; her laptop pinged, signalling an incoming Skype call. Instantly, she stopped her homework, moving away from her bed towards her desk. After accepting the call, the screen appeared; Yoni was on the end, looking exhausted and certainly the worse for wear. Shirah chuckled softly. "Jeez, what happened to you, baby dove?"

The nickname had at first been Si-si's for the girl not long after she'd been born, but soon, Shirah had picked it up also, deciding- after a few issues with having her sister come along- that it would be _her_ nickname for her baby sister, not Sarah's. Yoni was _her_ baby sister, after all, and the toddler had been quick to remind her aunt of that fact.

"_Gibbs_ happened, Shi. He decided that today would be a 'close combat day' and took us down to the gym. And while _Ima_ and _Abba_ and To-to were grappling, I was stuck boxing with Gibbs. Although, _Ima_ jabbed To-to in the family jewels and he bounced back fairly quickly, which means he must have a high pain tolerance, or he is just_ used_ to it-"

Shirah snorted at the image of Tony going up against her parents; only the girls were allowed to call him 'To-to', and no matter how old they got, the nickname was still in use, would always be. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, another call pinged, and Shirah accepted, to see Nara on the other end. The girl looked as tired as Yoni probably felt. "Hey."

"So, how is working on a movie set, Nar?" Shirah asked, taking a seat at her desk. The younger girl yawned.

"Not so bad the first few days, now it is just exhausting. The other actors are nice, which is a plus, I guess. But I miss being home."

"You have only been down there a week-"

"I know." The girl sighed. "And we will not be here much longer- we are going to be filming the majority of the scenes in _Turkey_."

Yoni choked on her tea. "What? And you did not tell _Ima_ and _Abba_?"

"I just _found out_! Besides, Hetty made it _very clear_ that Agents Hanna and Callen are to go with me." She rolled her eyes. "I am not a baby-"

"Well_ Ima_ and_ Abba_ seem to still think we are, and they treat us as such. Monitoring us like we are about to plan some sort of massive jewelry heist-" Shirah rolled her eyes. She loved her baby sisters- they were hers and hers alone to look out for, even when she was a million miles away, no matter how childish they acted.

And their parents-

Tim and Ziva had done their best to make sure the girls grew up in a house filled with love and laughter and happiness. They'd given the girls everything they could have asked for, making sure that they were happy and healthy and loved. "They do their best, _Ima_ and_ Abba_. And they are just trying to protect us-"

"Well they are holding on too tight. I am about ready to strangle. I am _eighteen_, Shi! I am sick and tired of being told what to do! At this point, I want to go to Syria to help as much as to get away from them-"

"Yoni, they love us. They just want what is best-"

"I know, Shirah! I understand, okay? I just... how can you not feel smothered?"

"Well, for starters, Shi is clear in Israel-" Nara replied, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Their older sister shook her head before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"And they _still_ manage to smother her! Look, I love both _Abba_ and _Ima_, but I just want them to stop treating me like a child and leave me-" A knock sounded on Yoni's door, and the girl quickly turned. "_Ima_-" Ziva leaned against the door frame.

"Tony is here; you are still going to stay the night, _ken_?" When the girl didn't reply, her mother added, "I think it would be a good idea if you spent a couple days at Uncle Tony and _Aintin_ Zoe's. Maybe spend some time with actual adults who do not treat you like a child." She then shut the door softly behind her, leaving the girl alone. Yoni sighed, turning back to her sisters.

Nara whistled softly. "Remember what happened the last time_ Ima_ told someone to stay the night for a couple of days? _Abba_ ended up staying with Gibbs for a week before she allowed him back in the apartment, let alone their bed."

"Well, to be fair, _Abba_ _did_ kind of deserve it." Shirah replied. "And I hate to say it, but I think you might deserve it too, Yoni."

The teenager narrowed her gaze. "Thanks, Shi."

"Just go easy on them, they are doing the best they can, and they love us, they really do." Yoni sighed.

"I know. I had better get going. I love you, Nar, Shi."

"Love you too." Once Nara had signed off, Shirah sat back in her chair.

"Look, I know that _Ima_ and _Abba_ tend to treat you like a baby, but maybe part of this is because you act like one occasionally. Temper tantrums, _really_, Yoni?" The younger girl slouched in her chair, crossing her arms. "Maybe a couple days with To-to is what you need. I think all of you need a break from each other. But if you ever want to talk-"

"I know, Shi._ Toda_."

"_Al lo davar_."

The younger girl glanced at the time on her laptop. "I'd better-"

"Same here. I love you, baby dove."

"... I love you, too, Shi." Once they'd signed off, Shirah sat back in her chair.

"That your sister?" She turned; Jacqi Williams kicked the door of their apartment closed and set her backpack down. Jacqi was Shirah's best friend; they had grown up a floor apart, and both girls had gone into the archaeology profession when they got to college- though Jacqi's was more from a sociological standpoint; the girl was also getting a degree in Comparative Religions. The girls had grown up together; both of them being of Israeli-American descent, they'd had a lot in common- not only celebrating the holidays of both faiths, but the same interests.

"Yep. Both of them."

"How are they doing?" Shirah shrugged, getting up and going into the kitchen. She filled the tea kettle and turned on the burner, leaning against the counter.

"Okay. Nar's in L.A.- she is going to be in Turkey filming that movie, and Yoni is going to be in Syria- if she can meet Gibbs's requirements. But she is going to be spending the night at To-to and Zoe's-_ Ima_ heard her complaining-"

Jacqi winced. "Been there, done that." Shirah nodded. "So, how far did you get on the research?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 10.**

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Alexandria_

"There is my niece. How're you doing, sweetheart?"

Yoni kept silent as Zoe pulled her into a hug. Tony had married Zoe Keates, an ATF agent, back in two-thousand-twenty-five, a couple years after the massacre at Georgetown Day. In a small family ceremony in Gibbs's backyard, they'd asked Tim and Ziva to stand with them, and had been surrounded by their family as they'd said their vows beneath a beautiful, hand-carved trellis Gibbs had made for the occasion. And while it had taken some time for the team to accept Zoe into the family, eventually, they'd gotten used to the ATF agent joining them for coffee in the mornings or dinners in the evenings. The girls looked on Zoe as another aunt, going to her for advice or if they needed help with something and didn't want to ask their parents.

"Are you hungry? Yoni, sweetheart?" The girl met her aunt's gaze, and Zoe sighed. "Oh boy. Come on, let's... sit, and we can talk."

Tony watched his wife as she pushed his favorite niece into a chair at the kitchen table, quickly fixing a cup of tea and setting it in front of the girl before joining her. Without a word, he headed into the kitchen to start dinner, keeping an ear open; the teenager hadn't said a word in the car- instead, she'd sulked from the moment she'd shut the door. "What happened, Yon-Yon? Cause when I came up to pick you up, Momma Ninja was awful stoic. Only told me hello and then asked if it'd be okay if you stayed for the entire weekend instead of just the night. Which is fine, but now, I'm starting to wonder what you've done to piss off your mother."

Yoni swallowed. "I did not do anything, To-to. I... I said it."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "What did you say to your momma, exactly?"

Yoni bit her lip. "I... did not say it.. to Ima, she... she overheard it..."

"Yoni, sweetie, I'm sure whatever you said isn't as bad as you really think it is-"

"I told Shi when she called that... that they treat me like a child and that I want is for them to... to leave me alone... and that... I want to go to Syria as much as to work as to..."

"Spite them?" Zoe filled in. Yoni nodded, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath, tears in her eyes.

"_Ima_ heard and..." The girl swallowed. "She has never been... so angry... I have never seen her so..." Zoe reached over, grabbing her hand and squeezing.

"What you said probably hurt_ Ima_ very much, sweetheart. She loves you, she just wants to best for you-"

"Well she is _smothering me_, _Aintin_ Zoe! I cannot take much more of this! She is driving me_ up the hall_-"

"Up the-" Tony started, but Yoni ignored him as she began to pace.

"Telling me that I cannot do this or do that, checking that I have done my homework or asking if I need a ride somewhere when I am _perfectly capable_ of _driving myself_... giving me a curfew... a _curfew_! _I am not a child!_ And... and then telling me at first that I cannot go to Syria, but allowing_ Nara_ to go to L.A. for that movie- but Nara is not going to be in L.A., she is going to be in Turkey because they are going to be filming on location-"

"Yonah, sweetheart," Zoe stood, taking the girl by the shoulders. "I understand that you're angry, but honey,_ Ima_ is only doing it because she loves you. You're her daughter. She only wants the best for you-"

"Well her best is smothering me, _Aintin_! I do not know how much more of this I can take-"

"Yoni,_ Yoni, honey_, look at me. How about instead of the weekend, you stay for the rest of the week, okay? Give... everyone a chance to cool off and calm down and get heads on straight again, okay?" A moment passed before the girl nodded.

Four hours later, after dinner, Yoni went to bed, leaving Zoe and Tony up. "Poor kid's exhausted." Tony declared, coming into the kitchen after checking on his niece. The girl had curled up under the blankets of the bed in their guest room, still holding tight to the doll Sarah had given her years ago. Sighing, Tony took a seat at the kitchen table, giving Zoe a small smile when she set two cups of coffee down and joined him. "Thanks, Zo." Tony stole a quick kiss, before wrapping his hands around the mug. "I understand where she's coming from, I really do, but..."

"But?" Zoe waited patiently for him to continue. He sighed.

"Tim and Ziva are my closest and dearest friends. They're family- Tim is the little brother I never had. The geeky little brother, but still."

"He's not much of a geek anymore, Tony. Tim's grown up quite a bit- and he has Ziva to thank for that." She reached over, taking his hand. "When I first met them, well... when I first met Ziva, I didn't like her. I thought... that she had this... crush on you, and I got jealous. And then I saw how she was always glued to Tim's side; how they were always sitting together or standing together or... holding hands and whispering in each others' ears... how they were always sharing little looks. And when Tim introduced Ziva as his wife, then I began to understand."

"They've been married for almost forty-five years... and it was a... self-uniting marriage, granted by the rabbi and priest of the church there, at least, that's what I remember them telling me." Zoe whispered appreciatively, and Tony nodded. "Nearly forty-five years of marriage and three girls... that's not bad. I mean... look at the way their girls have turned out; Cookie's studying in Israel, Bunny's in a movie and Yon-Yon's possibly going to Syria-"

Zoe chuckled; Tony had explained to her that 'Bunny'- his nickname for Nara- had come about during Ziva's last pregnancy. Even though her mother had been placed on bed rest- practically from the moment she was conceived- Nara had been a rambunctious little girl, constantly moving within her mother's belly, kicking and stretching as she'd grown in her mother's womb. "Look, Yoni's eighteen, so of course she's going to rebel, that's what teenagers do. And she's doing it now, instead of a few years ago. That proves her maturity level, I think." She glanced back towards the bedrooms. "How about we give Yoni the week to calm down, and by then, Ziva will have cooled off enough that maybe the two would be able to talk."

Tony sighed, nodding. Though Zoe was right, he didn't like it. His niece was stubborn- and so was her mother. This couldn't end well.


	12. Chapter 12

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 11.**

_Washington, D.C.,_

_The Navy Yard _

_A Week Later_

"Yogurt and garlic?"

Yoni stepped into the bullpen at the beginning of the next week, dressed in her workout gear. "It is a Middle Eastern staple." The four agents turned to find Yoni standing in the entrance of the bullpen. "So? What are we doing today?"

"Someone's ready for close combat." Tim said, taking a sip of his coffee and setting the cup down. He got up, going to the girl. "Have you cooled down enough to apologize to _Ima_?" Yoni's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "Oh don't give me that look,_ katan_. You stepped over the line." He pulled the girl close, his lips brushing her ear. "Don't you know that you're supposed to _whisper_ when badmouthing your parents?" He then pulled away, turning on his heel and heading for the back elevator. "I'm gonna be down in the gym if anyone needs me."

The other agents watched him before Ziva got up from her desk, following her husband. Without a word, Tony scrambled after his partners, leaving Gibbs and Yoni to catch up. By the time they reached the gym, the other three agents were already in their workout gear. Yoni watched as her father worked on the punching bag, leaving her mother trying to talk Tony out of the boxing ring. "Hell, no, _Da_vid! I'll take my chances with Gibbs, thank you very much!"

Ziva snorted, turning to her husband, but Tim was too focused on the bag to notice. Without a word, she turned to Yoni. The girl glanced at Gibbs, before stumbling towards her mother, thanks to the Team Leader. Once she'd dropped her things by the bench, she made her way towards Ziva, who quickly removed the gloves she wore, tossing them to the bench. Her mother was already in a soft ready stance, waiting for her. A moment passed, before the girl mimicked her-

Ten minutes later, Yoni struggled to catch her breath, her eyes snapping open thanks to the impact of her back hitting the mat. Ziva stood over her, brushing a wayward strand of hair off her forehead. She took a sip from her water bottle before quickly closing it. "Get up." The girl winced, planting her hands lightly on the mat beside her and slowly pushing herself to a sitting position. "If you want to go to Syria, I suggest you _get. up._" Without a word, the girl did as told, dropping back into the stance and waiting for her mother to do the same.

The feel of her mother's knee connecting with her stomach drew the breath from the girl's lungs, and she stumbled, landing on her back with her mother on top of her. Without a word, her mother grabbed her by the throat, yanking her up. "Let... go..."

"Then. _Fight. Back_."

Suddenly, Ziva found herself sprawled on her stomach, being held down by her daughter. She used the same move she'd used on Tony a week earlier, throwing her daughter over her head and onto the mat before springing to her feet. Despite her age- for, surprisingly, Ziva just a few months shy of her fiftieth birthday, much like her husband- she was as agile and light on her feet as she'd been when she was Yoni's age. But then again, all of the agents on Gibbs's team kept themselves in top shape, and sadly, it was only Tony that was showing his age.

Ziva chuckled as she watched her daughter shake the stars out of her eyes. A sneer tugged at her mother's lips, making her seem like someone Yoni didn't know- would never know. "What is the matter, little one? Have a bit of a _headache_?"

"I am fine-"

She managed to block her mother's first blow, however, it didn't last long. Ziva grabbed her wrist, flinging the girl over her shoulder and onto the floor. Despite being out of breath, Yoni managed to knock her mother's feet out from under her; not that it did much good. Ziva was back on her feet in an instant; Yoni climbed to her feet, rushing towards her mother. In one swift move, Ziva grabbed the girl's arm, twisting it behind her back before slamming the teenager into the mat at their feet.

Yoni looked up, to find her mother smirking down at her. Slowly, Ziva knelt down, her lips brushing the girl's ear. "You had better keep training, Yonaleh. I was trained by the _best_, by _Mossad_. You still have a lot to learn." She gently smacked her daughter's cheek. "You are eighteen. Maybe a year or two in Mossad would do you _good_." Without a word, Yoni grabbed her mother's wrist, sending the Israeli head over heels onto her back-

"Easy, girls." Ziva sprang to her feet, her back suddenly rod straight and posture near perfect; at the same time, Yoni stood doubled over, struggling to catch her breath. She didn't understand how her mother could be a few months shy of fifty and still be so agile-

"Looks like you wore our girl out, baby." Tim was removing the boxing gloves he wore, having just come from a practice session with Tony, who was struggling to swallow; clearly Tim had stood on the older man's throat. Ziva glanced at her daughter, who slowly straightened. "Yonah could use a few extra sessions with you, Ziva." He went to his wife, pressing a soft kiss to her head. "She was getting it by the end, but still," Tim wrinkled his nose. "No-"

"Mice." Ziva replied, turning to him.

"Dice." He corrected, turning to his daughter and holding out a hand. Yoni went to him gratefully, only to have her father yank her close and twist her arm behind her back. "How about we let_ Ima_ play with Uncle Tony for a while?"

"So... what are we going to do, _Abba_?" Tim chuckled.

"You're gonna learn a few tricks I learned from Gibbs when I first joined the team." And without another word, he released her arm and tugged her towards the punching bags.


	13. Chapter 13

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai and notquitearockgod for reviewing 12.**

_Istanbul,_

_Turkey_

_Two Weeks Later_

"This is so cool. Can you believe we're _actually_ here?"

They'd arrived in Istanbul two weeks earlier, to discover the set of _The Dovekeepers_ rising from the desert sands; for Nara and Eirean- the girl playing Yael- the excitement _still_ hadn't worn off, even two weeks into shooting. Nara shook her head, adjusting the white_ palla_ she wore and being careful not to smudge her makeup- something the 'would rather have things simple' teenager wasn't used to. Unlike her older sisters, Nara never wore makeup; she never did her hair unless it was for a holiday dinner or something equally as nice. She was more content in a leotard and tights than fancy dresses and high heels, preferred leg warmers and messy buns to lipstick and hairspray. So to say that she was uncomfortable in costume was an understatement- though the costume didn't bother her, the hair and makeup did, and she wanted nothing more than to take a wet cloth and scrub the makeup from her skin. The dovecotes that had been built for the interior scenes were cramped- even though they were fairly wide, the amount of cameras and actors inside made them seem so much more claustrophobic. Unable to find a quiet corner to herself, she ducked her head, reaching up to brush at the black that rimmed her eyes-

"Let's get started, everyone!"

The teenagers shared a glance, grabbing hands and giggling before trying to act professional. Cote Monroe- the girl playing Nahara- laughed. Though she was three years younger than Nara and Eirean, she often times seemed the wiser.

"Well, are you going to stand there, or are we going to start acting?" The three young actresses turned; Esther Avi, who played Shirah, tossed her braid over her shoulder and took the basket the prop master handed her. The Brooklyn-born Jew nodded to the man, thanking him softly.

"Sorry, Esther." Nara whispered, but all the older woman did was smile, her nose wrinkling. For a brief moment, Nara felt as though she were looking at her mother. "May I join you?" The actress turned to the younger girl, drinking her in. A small smile tugged at her lips, before she moved towards the nests and the doves that resided within.

"Need you even ask?" They quickly got to work, setting up everything, and making sure things that didn't belong in the scene were taken out. In a matter of minutes, the director had called for quiet, and filming began. Nara listened patiently for her cue, finally turning when she felt Esther reach over and lightly squeeze her hand.

Eirean stepped forward, no longer the girl from Seattle who'd auditioned on a whim and received a role, but Yael, the assassin's daughter, who carried the guilt of her mother's death and another man's child within her. A moment passed, before Esther- no, _Shirah,_ Nara had to keep reminding herself- stepped forward. When she spoke, her voice was smooth, relaxed, so much like Ziva's that tears briefly came to her eyes.

"_'I wonder how a lioness will manage in a dovecote. Can you put away your teeth and claws?'_"

Without a word, Nara joined the other women 'working' in the dovecote as they gathered around the girl. Eirean- no, Yeal, it was_ Yael_ during filming- looked around, nervous. "_'Hardly a lioness. Only a poor wanderer.'_"

"_'Aren't we all?'_" Revka- played by actress Leslie Anders- replied, sniffing derisively. "_'You think you're so different from us? You're not too good to shove the shit of these doves, are you? If you are, you can leave right now.'_"

Nara watched as Eirean bit her lip, as the camera moved in for a closeup. "_'I'll do whatever work you ask of me.'_"

Without a word, Esther moved towards Eirean, holding out a basket, which the girl took after a moment of hesitation. Without a word, Nara moved towards the older woman, slipping her arms around the woman's waist, as it was written in the script. But oh, how she wished it was her mother's waist she was holding, her sisters' arms resting over hers, her mother's lips brushing against her forehead-

"_'Even a lioness has to work.'_"

"And cut!"

Without a word, Nara quickly pulled away as soon as she was allowed. Not that she didn't _like_ Esther, or Cote or Eirean, but she missed her sisters and her parents, and instantly rushed off to find a quiet place to call them. She slipped back into the trailer she shared with Eirean, pulling out her laptop and quickly dialing her sister for a Skype call. It took a few minutes, but finally, Shirah answered on the other end.

"Hey, movie star, how is everything going?" Nara relaxed, happy to see her sister.

"It-" She stopped, rolling her eyes at the knocking on the trailer door. She quickly held up a finger. "What is it?"

"You all right in there, Nara?" She sighed, getting up and going to the door.

"I am fine, Sam." She replied, opening the door and sticking her head out. "I promise. I just... needed to call my sister. Wanted to hear her voice." The two agents Hetty had assigned to her just stared, G raised an eyebrow, but Sam chuckled.

"Okay. But if you need us-"

"I will let you know." Satisfied with her answer, they left to give her some privacy and after a moment, she closed the door, returning to the desk as she unwound her _palla_. "Sorry, that was-"

"Yeah, I know." Shirah chuckled. "So, how is the movie going?" Nara nodded, forcing a smile.

"Good. But... I miss you and... Yoni and... _Ima_ and _Abba_. I mean... the cast... they are great, and Esther- she plays Shirah- she is... amazing, and... and she kind of... well... sort of..._ looks_ like _Ima_. I... I mean the... the same dark eyes and dark hair and skin tone and..."

"I get it." Nara nodded. "How old is she?"

The younger girl quickly did the math in her head. "About... thirty-six, I think she said."

"So... she was about... a little older than _Ima_ when she had... well, _you_." The younger girl glared at her sister, and Shirah grinned. The sisters lapsed into silence for several minutes, before, "Oh! Guess what?"

Nara shook her head. "What?"

"You are supposed to guess."

"... I do not know-"

The older girl rolled her eyes. "You are so much like _Ima_. _Abba_ would at least make good _effort_ to guess."

"Shirah-"

"Fine."

"Well, tell me!"

"Okay..." The older girl literally bounced in her seat, excited. Nara waited for her to continue.

"Well? What were you going to say?" A moment passed, before Shirah replied,

"I have been chosen to go on an excavation!"

"That... that is great, Shi." For the last three years or so, all Shirah had talked about was how she wanted to go on an excavation- to Masada. She'd gone to Petra and uncovered pottery and utensils, she'd gone to China and helped to uncover the rivers of mercury within emporer Qin Shi Huang's tomb, she'd helped to uncover fossils in Paris- "What excavation?"

Her sister could barely contain her excitement. _"I'm going on an excavation to Masada_!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 13.**

_Tel Aviv,_

_Tel Aviv University_

_Israel_

"So... the Jews at Masada slit their own throats in order to die free, otherwise, they would have been taken and dragged back to Rome in chains as slaves. We know this because-"

The small lecture hall fell into a hush as the door opened and someone slipped inside. Everyone turned towards the door, finding a young man softly apologize for interrupting the class. As everyone turned back to the lecture, he slipped into an empty seat; Shirah slowly looked up from her note taking, studying the guy. He met her gaze. "_Slicha._ Didn't meant to disrupt..."

He glanced down at her hands, seeing the brightly colored red henna designs on her skin; she and Jacqi had gotten them done over the weekend, when they'd taken a trip down to Be'er Sheva- she'd gone to Channa, the owner of the beauty parlor who had been the childhood friend of her _Savta_ Rivka's before her death. The beautiful swirls of red, green and yellow appeared to be part of her skin, not just temporary decoration; his gaze then traveled to the star around her throat- one _Saba_ Eli had given her for her birthday one year; along with the Catholic cross_ Saba_ John had given her when she turned eight. "You are Jewish? Or Christian?"

Slowly, the archaeology student returned to her notes, not glancing at him. "_Shnei ha bechirot_."

The guy raised an eyebrow. "You speak Hebrew?"

"You do not?" The guy looked up, as Jacqi peeked around her best friend, dark eyes studying him quickly before she ducked back into her seat.

It was Shirah's turn to look at him, as one slender eyebrow rose. "_Ken_. I am half-Jewish and half-Irish-American._ Lama_?"

He shrugged, grinning silently.

An hour later, the students streamed out of the lecture hall, Jacqi and Shirah among them. "Hey! Wait up!" Both girls turned back to see the new guy from class race to catch up with them. They stopped. When he finally reached them, he doubled over, struggling to catch his breath. "_C__os ka-feh_?Do you... want to..."

The girls shared a glance, before Jacqi said, "Should we put him out of his misery?" Shirah laughed, turning back to him as he straightened.

"We could always go for coffee, right, Jac?" The other girl nodded.

"Absolutely."

A moment passed before Shirah nodded towards her best friend. "This is my best friend, Jacqi Williams." He quickly shook the girl's hand.

"And you are-"

"Shirah McGee."

"McGee? I thought you were Israeli?" He asked, taking her hand.

She started, meeting his gaze as his hand folded around hers briefly. "I... I am. My... _Abba_ was the son of the American Ambassador to Israel, and _Ima_ is the only surviving child of the last Director of Mossad." He raised an eyebrow.

"You are Eli _Da_vid's daughter?"

"_Grand_daughter." She corrected. "_Ima_ is _Saba_ Eli's daughter- Ziva. And... you are?"

The guy blushed, suddenly embarrassed. He chuckled, replying, "Eleazar-"

"Ben Ya'ir?" Shirah asked, referring to_ The Dovekeepers_, hoping he got the joke, as Jacqi giggled. The guy raised an eyebrow, briefly confused, but deciding not to push the obviously inside joke.

"Ah... no. Reis. Eleazar is a family name." Both girls nodded, sharing a glance. "So, coffee?"

They soon found themselves sitting at the small campus cafe, chatting over steaming cups. Turned out, Eleazar grew up in Palestine, and though his mother was Israeli, she'd married a Palestinian doctor. He had a younger sister, age fourteen, who was studying abroad in America to be an actress, stage name and all. With his dark hair and eyes, he was quite... striking, and Shirah found she couldn't take her eyes off him, though his obvious nerves seemed to help her relax around him; Shirah didn't do to well around new people- it had taken the girl a year to get used to being away from her close-knit family.

"Um... what... what are you studying?"

She started, caught off guard. "Sorry?"

"What're you two studying?"

The girls exchanged glances before Jacqi said, "We are both archaeology majors, though I am also getting a degree in Comparative Religions. And... what are you-"

"Archaeology. And History of Ancient Judea. I'm actually going on the excavation to Masada in-"

"So are we!" Shirah blushed, ducking her head, as Jacqi gently bumped her shoulder. "Right, Shirah?" Slowly, the other girl nodded. Jacqi, noticing her friend's sudden change in demeanor, got up. "Excuse me, I am just going to slip off the to restroom really quick." Shirah's head snapped up, and she pleaded silently with the girl to stay, but her roommate was soon gone, leaving her at the table with Eleazar.

"So, you're also going to Masada." She nodded, something catching her attention.

"You use contractions when you speak." Though she'd grown up in Washington, D.C., gone to school with other American students, she, her sisters and Jacqi were the only children who never used contractions- that she knew of. Many of the Jews in Georgetown shortened their words; they were so indoctrinated into the American way of life, that they didn't even think twice before contracting their words or sentences. But for the girls- they'd spent enough of their formative years spending holidays and summers in Israel, that they were more comfortable speaking the long way than shortening their words. Plus, with Ziva as a live-in example, was it any wonder they talked more like their mother than their father? "Were you in America at one point?"

He chuckled, glancing at his hands. "I was. I spent... eight years in America, studying abroad when I was a child. You?"

"I was born in Washington, D.C., and I have two younger sisters. My parents both work for NCIS."

"NC-"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

"Oh. I thought your mother was the daughter of-"

"She is, but she left Mossad not long after my youngest sister was born. She started with NCIS as a liaison officer, and then became a probationary agent after becoming an American citizen and then became an official agent. So her roots may be Mossad, but her heart is NCIS."

He nodded. "So you... live in America?"

She thought a moment, before nodding. "Georgetown. My little sister is going to Syria to help with the humanitarian effort and my youngest sister is filming a movie. Both my parents are still in Georgetown, they still work with NCIS. I... I am sorry, I tend to ramble when I..."

He chuckled. "It's okay. I tend to stammer when I'm around... a beautiful girl." She blushed. "Here." He held out a hand, asking silently for her phone, and after a moment, she gave it to him. Quickly, he put his name and number into her contacts, and then sent a quick text to himself from her phone. "I have to get going; gonna be late for my next class. Give me a call. We can be... nervous wrecks together."

He waved to Jacqi when she returned from the bathroom before slipping out of the cafe and heading across campus.

"_So_?" Shirah looked up as Jacqi finally returned, slipping into the seat he'd occupied earlier. Shirah bit her lip, holding out her phone. "He gave you his _number_?" She glanced at her best friend, suddenly realizing something. "You know, I _think_ he wants you to call him."

The other girl narrowed her eyes as she grabbed the phone back from her friend and sat back in her chair, picking up her mug. "Oh, _sheket __bevakasha_!" But all Jacqi did was laugh.


	15. Chapter 15

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 14.**

_Washington, D.C.,_

_The Navy Yard,_

_Four Weeks Later_

"Again."

"I'm tired."

"Come_ on_, again."

"I'm _tired_."

"Again. Come on, you ready?"

"What part of 'I'm tired' do you _not_ under-" Tony sank to the floor, hands quickly going to his genital area.

"Now I _know_ I'm not the only guy in the building that felt that." Yoni looked up as her father made his way from the boxing ring; Ziva quickly followed, wiping the perspiration off her forehead.

"Should you not have learned to wear a cup, Tony?"

"You'd..._ think that_..." Tony choked out from his place on the floor. Yoni was learning quickly that when her parents and Gibbs said jump, she jumped, not even asking how high. When they told her to duck, she ducked, usually knocking them off their feet in the process. Ziva now joined her and Tim on their usual four a.m. run, and they often got more than ten miles in; not that either Tim or Ziva seemed to tire- ever.

Her parents were complete health nuts- from fresh fruit and vegetables to weekly sparring sessions and oftentimes ten-mile runs- they spent more time at the NCIS gym than home, brushing up on techniques and spending some time just being a couple- not agents, not parents, nor anything else that required their time but each other. Yoni and her sisters had grown up preparing fresh vegetables for dinner, had danced and done things like gymnastics since they were old enough to grasp the meaning of such words; the only time they ever strayed from their parents' health schedule, was when they stayed with Tony and Zoe, who often had a difficult time sticking to the rules of kosher that Tim and Ziva followed, but they managed. Hamburgers and pasta were common staples in the DiNozzo household, and the girls often devoured them with gusto, for Tony's traditional Italian recipes were their favorites- something that irked their mother to no end. Sad to say, the girls often tired of Irish and Israeli, and Tony's Italian often hit the right spot.

"Come on." Yoni turned to her mother, who had grabbed her water bottle. "That is enough for today. Lunch." And without a word, she headed for the showers, Tim following. Yoni watched her parents, noticing how many of the other agents in the gym turned the other cheek when it came to Ziva's mysterious visits to the men's room or locker room. There was no guarantee they could stop her anyway, so they acted like she wasn't there-

Three hours later, the trio found themselves sitting at a booth in the Jewish diner in Georgetown. Gibbs had given the team the rest of the day off; Tony headed home, and Tim and Ziva took Yoni out, though the girl knew there was more to it than just a simple lunch date. She glanced at her parents, noticing how Tim fiddled with the sugar container and Tim kept his hands firmly around his coffee cup. A moment passed, before the girl spoke up,

"So... what did you want to talk about?" Her parents shared a glance.

"Why would you-"

Yoni raised an eyebrow. "I may be your kid, _Abba_, but I am not stupid. I know you both brought me here to talk about something." Her parents shared a glance, before Tim reached out, taking Ziva's hand.

"You are... to brilliant for your own good, Yonaleh." Ziva replied, reaching over and brushing a strand of hair off her daughter's cheek. The girl blushed, opening her mouth to speak as their orders arrived. Silence filled the booth for several minutes, before Tim spoke up.

"You're right, we do want to talk to you." Yoni looked up from her bagel toast, brow furrowed. "It's about Syria."

"You are not letting me go." She whispered, sitting back against the booth. Her parents glanced at each other.

"What makes you say that?" Tim asked as Ziva took a bite of her salad. The girl shrugged.

"Well, for your information, Yoni, you are wrong." Her head snapped up at her mother's words.

"What?"

"You may go to Syria." She studied Ziva for several minutes, not truly believing that what her mother said was true. "_Abba_ and Gibbs and I discussed it, and you have... greatly improved in your combat skills from the time you began. However," She held up a hand, stopping any protests. "Before you go, there are a few things we would still like to make sure you know."

"What... what are they?"

"How to throw a knife, for one." Tim cut in.

"How to properly load and fire a gun, for another." Ziva added.

"And how to speak Farsi, as well as the other dominant languages within Syria." Yoni glanced at her parents, a small gasp of confusion escaping her throat.

"I..."

"What is the matter? Bat got your tongue, _ktana_?"

"_Cat_, baby. The word is _cat_, not bat." His wife turned to him. "Just like a nap. It's not a bat nap, it's a_ cat_ nap." The Israeli wrinkled her nose.

"Oh." She thought a moment. "I like my expression better." Her husband rolled his eyes.

"Of course you do." Yoni giggled, her laughter ending in a snort, of which she quickly tried to look innocent. Tim chuckled, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "Gibbs has also agreed that you may go_ if_ you learn his rules." The girl furrowed a brow.

"But... I already know all his rules,_ Abba_. Why would I need to learn them again?"

"You'll have to ask Gibbs, Yonah. They're his rules. He wants you to learn them."

The girl sat back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. "But... _lama_? _Ani lo mevina_." Her parents shared a glance. They both knew that at eighteen, she wouldn't understand the dangers she was going to walk into, that the world was not as safe a place as it had once been, that though the dangers hadn't been as bad when they were children, they were still bad.

"We want to make sure you're safe, _ahuva_." Tim whispered, reaching over and taking her hand. "We want you to come back to us alive, not in a body bag." She nodded, understanding and yet not. "Now, are you done? How about we take the rest of that to go?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 15.**

_Istanbul,_

_Turkey,_

_Three Month Later_

She quickly adjusted the strings of her guitar, strumming a few notes before adjusting it again, and after a moment, she began to play, satisfied with the sound. It had been a fight for her to bring the instrument with her when they started filming, but Nara refused to be parted from it. She didn't want to leave it home, sitting in her room in the apartment in Georgetown, gathering dust, or in her dorm at AADA, perfect for the taking. Gibbs had made it especially for her, and she wanted it with her at all times.

"_Some days, it's hard to see_..." She continued strumming, her eyes closing as the familiar ring of the chords surrounded her. "when the stars leave behind the weak..." She stopped, her eyes snapping open as her brow furrowed. She glanced at her notebook, the beginning lyrics leading into... well, she wasn't sure because she was half a world away filming a movie, didn't mean she could neglect her homework; the song she had to compose was simply extended until the end of the semester, when she got back.

So far, she had one line.

"Just because you are good at _playing_ music does not mean you are good at _composing_ it. _Esh ktanah nishrafah harbey meod tiras_. 'A little fire burns up a great deal of corn', as_ Ima_ says. Whatever_ that_ means." She quickly scribbled out a line she'd written in the night before, leaving the top line alone. She then set her pen down and returned to strumming, struggling to think of a lyric to follow the one she'd kept. A soft knock on her door caused her to look up, however. "_Ken_?"

After a moment, it opened, and Daniel Rodriguez, who played Amram, poked his head in. Two years older than Nara, he'd been acting since he was a child, and had an impressive resume stretching all the way from _The Music Man_ to _Wicked_. The hotel they were staying at was paid for by the media company- a very nice, very beautiful hotel in the heart of Istanbul. "Hey. You busy? I was wondering if you wanted to go get lunch."

She shook her head. "No, just... working on homework."

"Oh, then I'll leave you-"

"No! I... I am not getting anywhere in it, so..." She stopped, blushing.

"Well, in that case, maybe I can help." He replied, slipping into the room and joining her on the bed. She slowly removed the guitar from around her neck.

"That, I highly doubt."

"You never know." He shifted to face her. "What are you working on?"

"I have to compose a song, perform it, and hand it in at the end of semester when I get back from filming. I can play the guitar and sing, but I cannot compose-"

"Let's here it." She furrowed a brow.

"What?"

He shrugged. "It can't be that bad, can it? So let's hear it." A moment passed before she slowly strummed the guitar and sang the single line she'd been able to think of. Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Wow, that's..."

"You can say it. It is horrible, I know."

He shook his head. "No, it... it's great. You just need a few more... words."

She rolled her eyes, carefully returning her guitar to its case and putting her notebook away. "Thanks. I will keep that in mind."

Forty-five minutes later, she sat across form Daniel in a small cafe not far from the hotel; they were chatting about the various goings-on on set, and who they thought was sleeping with who-

"I know why I am not on set- they are filming Leslie's main scenes today- but why are you not-"

"I'm gonna be filming some of my scenes later."

"So am I-" He chuckled.

"I know. We're going to be filming a lot of our scenes together." She blushed, suddenly realizing that she may have sounded like an idiot.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

A moment passed before he reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "It's okay." She sucked in a breath, her gaze shooting to his before moving to his hand. Their gazes locked, and after a moment, he leaned over, catching her mouth in a soft, hesitant first kiss. He slowly pulled away, waiting for her reaction. They sat in silence for several minutes, before she absentmindedly reached to grab her bag, climbing to her feet.

"I... I have... I have to go..." He watched her dash out of the cafe, and after quickly paying for their meal, he left to catch up to her. Of course, by then, she was already back in the lobby of the hotel, having had a ten minute head start.

"_Nara_! Nara, _wait_!" He caught up to her just as she stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed behind them, turned to face her. "Look, I know that I was... probably way too forward, but... but I like you. I've liked you from the moment we met, and I know that there's two years between us, but we've... we've been working on this movie for three months, and-"

She turned to him. "What are you trying to say, Daniel?" She narrowed her eyes, not fully trusting him. She'd learned, from watching her mother- though Ziva often appeared to trust easily, it was usually far from the truth. It took a lot to earn the Israeli agent's trust, and even more to keep it. Of course, Tim had earned her trust from the moment they met- and had managed to keep it, despite his slips and misses in regards to her. But Ziva... well, joining Mossad was like joining the Mafia- one big, happy family that didn't take too kindly to outsiders- and Ziva still had to catch herself when it came to trusting certain people. And Nara, being Ziva's daughter, was the same way.

He sighed, taking her hands and tugging her close. "I like you, Nara. A lot."

She furrowed her brow, studying him. "I do not under-"

In response, Daniel pulled her close, kissing her firmly to shut her up.


	17. Chapter 17

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai and MusicWithinMe for reviewing 16.**

_Tel Aviv, _

_Tel Aviv University, _

_Israel_

_Four Months Later_

"Where _is_ it? It is a collection of tools, they cannot just _disappear like that_!"

"What are you looking for?" Shirah looked up to find Jacqi leaning against the door frame of her bedroom. The girls lived in a two bedroom apartment together on campus, not far from the Archaeology department and downtown Tel Aviv.

"My excavation kit. I cannot find it!" She turned, scrambling over a small pile of books to search under the bed. "It was here two days ago and now it is gone!"

Jacqi furrowed a brow. "Um... okay? What is the big deal, it is just a kit-"

But Shirah had climbed to her feet and grabbed her laptop, dropping onto her bed and logging into Skype. It took a few minutes for the program to connect, but finally, it did, and Shirah found herself staring at her mother. Ziva wasn't paying attention- she was working on balancing her checkbook and didn't hear her daughter at first. "_Ima_!"

Her mother's head snapped up, the high ponytail she wore snapping as she moved. "Ah... Sh... Shirah? What are you... I did not even hear..."

"Everything okay, baby?" Ziva turned back as Tim joined her, holding out a coffee cup, which she accepted with a kiss. A moment passed before he leaned over her shoulder. "Hey baby girl, what's wrong?" By then, Shirah had tears in her eyes; tears she was desperately trying to hide. Ziva's gaze snapped back to her daughter, her brow furrowing in concern.

"_Ktana_, what is it? What is wrong? Shirah?"

The girl sniffled, watching as Ziva got up and allowed Tim to sit down before she perched on his lap. "_I cannot find it!_"

Her parents shared a glance, clearly confused. "Find what?"

"Great-Aunt Nettie's excavation kit... you... you gave it to me before I left for school and... and it was here and... and I... I need it for the excavation trip to... to Masada and it... it is _gone_..." She burst into tears. "I am so sorry,_ Ima_! I know how much Great-Aunt Nettie's kit means to you, and I promised I would be careful with it and I was for... for two years and then I go and... and _lose it! I am so sorry! I did not mean to!_"

By now, the girl was in tears, and it took several minutes for them to get to her to calm down. "... breathe, Shiraleh." The girl did as her father instructed, forcing herself to take deep breaths, even as more tears continued to stream down her cheeks. "Are you calm now? Somewhat calmer?" Slowly, the girl nodded, her sobs turning into hiccups. "Okay, now tell us again, _katan_, what exactly did you lose?"

"Great-Aunt... Great-Aunt Nettie's..._ excavation kit... I am so sorry, Abba! I know how much that kit means to Ima and-_"

But her father held a finger to his lips, silencing her apologies. "Shh, hush, Shiraleh. You'll find it."

"You cannot know that, _Abba_-"

"Yes, I can and I do. Now think, Shirah, where did you have it last?"

The girl swallowed, struggling to remember what she'd done with the kit. "Um, I... I took it out of the box I keep it in and... and we went on a dig... and then... then I went to the library... and... _oh, God! I left it at the library! Abba_, what if someone found it? Or what if they _took it out of my bag? I am so sorry, Ima_-" She broke down again, becoming a complete mess, unaware of the knock on the door. Jacqi answered it as Tim and Ziva tried their hardest to get their daughter to calm down-

"Shirah?"

Taking a deep breath, Shirah turned, to see him in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

"Is everything okay, ahuva?" Ziva asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I found your kit." He held it out, and the girl scrambled off the bed, taking it from him. She quickly unrolled it, relief flooding her at the sight of Nettie's tools resting contentedly within their pockets. "I didn't have a chance to give it to you yesterday, so I figured I'd stop by and-"

"Shirah, who are you talking to?" A moment passed, before she returned to the bed, he followed, silent.

"_Abba, Ima_, this... this is Eleazar Reis. He is... in my archaeology classes. He... he found Great-Aunt Nettie's kit." Slowly, the young man leaned over her shoulder, waving at them. He stopped, however, when he saw Ziva. "You're Eli _Da_vid's daughter... it... it's an honor meet you... your... your reputation at Mossad is... legendary..." Ziva blushed, glancing at her husband.

_"Toda_. And... for giving Shirah back her kit. It... it is very important to this family-"

"Nettie... wait, your Great-Aunt Nettie is the Netta David... the archaeologist?" Ziva nodded, swallowing.

"_Ken_. Nettie was my great-aunt. We lost her in two-thousand-nine, the year Shirah was born-"

"How old are you?"

_"Abba!" _

Ziva gently smacked her husband. _"Timothy!" _

"We were both thinking it, I was the only one that had the guts to ask." He ground out, rubbing the back of his head. "And how many times have I asked you not to do that?" His wife ignored him, turning back to the girl on the other side of the screen.

"Are you okay, Shiraleh?" The girl nodded, holding the kit to her chest as though it were her favorite doll. "Well, thank you, Eleazar. And it was nice to meet you." Ziva then turned to her husband as she stood. "Now we need to go get ready-"

"Where are you going?" Her parents shared a glance; Ziva sighed.

"It is... Yoni's going away dinner. Gibbs invited the team over to wish her luck; her flight leaves tomorrow." Her mother started to tear up, and Shirah found her own throat beginning to clog.

"So... she is going to Syria?" Her mother nodded.

"_Ken_. We told her she could go if she... followed the guidelines we set, and she did."

"_Ima_? Will you... have her call me, afterwards? I want to talk to her." Ziva nodded once, before nodding to Eleazar. After they logged off, Shirah took a deep breath, leaning back, unaware as he perched on the edge of the bed and rubbed her back. She choked on a sob, turning and curling into his side, the thought of her little sister going into such a dangerous country scaring her half to death.


	18. Chapter 18

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

_Georgetown,_

_Washington, D.C._

"I thought we were going running? _Abba_?" Tim looked up; Yoni leaned against the bookcase that separated the study area from the living room. Dressed in her running gear, her features were a twist of confusion. He'd awoken at two that morning, and after an hour, he'd gotten up, taken a quick shower, and then taken a seat at the computer, a blank document up, yet nothing written. His mind wouldn't allow it.

His baby girl was leaving for Syria today. She was eighteen, and there wasn't a thing he could say or do to convince her to stay.

"You are scaring me, _Abba_. What is wrong?"

A moment passed, before he got up, making his way to the stereo. He pulled out a CD and slipped it into the player. "Go back to bed, love."

She furrowed a brow. "I-"

"Just do as I say, Yonah, please." Without a word, the girl turned, doing as he asked. Once her bedroom door closed, he turned the stereo on, skipping ahead a couple songs. The apartment was silent for several minutes, before Elton John's voice broke the silence-

"_Abba_?" He looked up, torn from his thoughts once more. This time, instead of her running gear, Yoni wore her nightgown, the blue making the darkness of her hair even more prominent. Without a word, he got up and made his way towards her, taking her into his arms. "What are we doing?" But he didn't say a word as they began to sway gently to the music.

"Remember when we used to dance after dinner? You'd balance on the tops of my shoes-" The girl nodded, glancing down. Her father was dressed, ready for work, though Vance had given the team the day off. Without a word, she shifted, until she was once more balanced on the tops of his shoes. Too old to do this now, far too heavy for such a childish thing, it brought smile to his lips, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The music roused Ziva from her slumber, and she came out to find her husband and daughter dancing in the middle of the living room, Elton John's _Tiny Dancer_ playing on repeat on the stereo. Yoni, balanced on her father's shoes, dressed in her nightgown, watched her father's face with a mixture of confusion and understanding. Eventually, however, she moved, returning her feet to the floor and curling into Tim's embrace, as she'd often done as a little girl.

Ziva leaned against the nearby wall, watching as her husband shared a dance with his last baby girl still at home- though she wouldn't be for long. Her flight would leave at eleven, and soon, it would just be them again; their daughters gone off to live their lives and finish school and start careers. But Ziva... she'd been a mother for so long, she feared that she now knew nothing else. Clearly, Tim felt the same.

Yoni, meanwhile, snuggled closer to her father, her eyes closing as she breathed in his scent. She wanted to remember this moment forever, wanted to cling to it so that when she was in Syria, she could feel _Abba_'s arms around her, comforting her as he'd always been able to do. They were alike, she and her father, both in temperament and personality. Both so filled with water, they seemed as one-

Tim took a deep breath. "One day, Yonah my dove, you'll meet a man who'll pull you into his arms and dance with you."

She looked up at him. "Will you always dance with me, _Abba_?"

He gave her a soft smile, tears glistening in his eyes. "One day I will not be here to dance with you, baby girl." She swallowed, before returning her head to his chest. "But until then, I will_ always_ dance with you." Softly, Tim pressed a kiss to her head, tears slipping down his cheeks.

Ziva watched from her place by the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She quickly reached up, wiping tears off her cheeks. To think, this would be the last morning they would spend with Yonah before she boarded a plane for Syria... with no guarantee that she'd return to them the same girl she'd been. She took a deep breath, choking on a sob when Tim met her gaze as the song ended and he pulled away. "Go back to bed, baby girl. Get a few hours sleep, okay?" The girl nodded. He pressed a kiss to her head, and as she returned to her room, Ziva took her place, sliding her arms around his neck.

"You going to be okay, baby?" He met her gaze, slipping his arms around her waist.

"I don't know." He rested his chin against the top of her head, swallowing thickly. "Ziva, she's our baby girl."

"I know, baby. I gave birth to her, remember?" He chuckled softly. "But she is smart, and she has a good neck on her shoulders, and we have taught her everything we know, everything Gibbs knows." Tim sniffled; he'd noticed her slip, but didn't bother correcting her on it. "She is not going into this blind, Timothy. We have raised... a smart, talented, beautiful girl... who only wishes to cancel the bad in the world with her actions as she helps build the good. We... we are doing the right thing, allowing her to go-"

But even as she said it, Ziva couldn't convince herself. She had carried the girl, given birth to her, watched her grow and change and become the beautiful young woman she now was... but to Ziva, Yoni would always be her baby, the little girl who followed her older sister around like a puppy and declared that Nara was her baby, not her mother's-

She broke down, clutching tight to her husband's neck, both unaware that Yoni was watching from the kitchen.


	19. Chapter 19

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 17 and 18. **

_Istanbul, _

_Turkey_

She pulled away, looking up at him, her grey-green eyes wide with surprise. "Wh... what was that for?"

He took a deep breath, shrugging. "Partially to shut you up and partially because I wanted to."

"Oh." They stood in silence for several minutes, continuing the ride to their floor, before,

"So... where are your bodyguards?"

"You mean Sam and G? The babysitters my parents attached to me?" He raised an eyebrow, watching as she leaned against the wall. "There's a diner that Sam wanted to try, so I told them I'd be in my hotel room all day and that they didn't need to watch me."

"So you gave them the day off."

She shrugged. "More like snuck out... but essentially, yes. Sam had to drag G from the room; besides, it's not like I _wanted_ them to come with me to Turkey. They work with my parents; apparently, that gave them free reign to attach themselves to me as my 'bodyguards' and my parents agreed."

"Well, you're parents... they love you, want to make sure you're okay."

Nara wrinkled her nose. "But I am sixteen. I am not a baby, I do not need to be watched like one." She moved away from the wall, going back to him. "I... have never been kissed like that before..."

"So that was your first kiss?" She nodded, swallowing as she met his gaze.

"I... I liked it..." Slowly, she rose onto her toes, closing the gap between them as the elevator doors opened to their floor-

_"Oh hell no!"_

Nara soon found herself being yanked back, out of the car by a former, very big, very, very angry SEAL-turned-NCIS-agent. She looked up, to find G stepping into the elevator, as Sam proceeded to drag her down the hall towards her room. "Let_ go of me_!" Sam didn't say a word until the door to her hotel room shut behind the pair. It was a two hour screaming match; this sixteen-year-old girl against one of Hetty's top agents. Standing at barely five-two, like her mother, Nara could be intimidating if she wanted, but right now, even the best impersonation of her mother wasn't helping her. She soon, however, found his cell being shoved into her face. "What is this- what are you doing?"

"Talk to your parents." She glanced at Sam, before slowly taking the phone. He'd already dialed the number and now Nara waited-

"Hey, you've reached apartment six-fifty-four; this is the McGee residence. If you're- a telemarketer or other span artist looking for a handout, I have a nice _sharp_ knife with your name on it-_ Ziva_." Nara couldn't help giggling; the fact that her mother had actually put that in- "Sorry, about that. Anyway, if you need to- get a hold of Tim- or Ziva- or any of the girls, then_ please_ leave a message with your name and number and we will get back to you. Unless it is urgent NCIS business, then you can reach both Tim and I on our cells, and if you are Gibbs, do not even_ bother_ calling, because we will know what you want anyway- _Ziva_. What? What did I say? Never mind. Oh, okay. Anyway, leave a message, and we'll get back to you soon. Thanks. _Shalom_."

Once the message ended- with her mother's every cheery greeting- Nara opened her mouth, only to stop and glance at Sam. A moment passed, before she turned away. "_Shalom, Ima, Abba_. It is Nara, but you.. probably already knew that. Anyway, just wanted to leave you a quick message, let you know that everything is okay. Um... filming is going good, and... I just... wanted to let you know that... I miss you both. I love you. Bye." She looked up at Sam, furrowing a brow as he narrowed his gaze. "What?"

Two hours later, Nara looked up as someone called her on Skype, and realizing who it was, she quickly scrambled to answer. "Shi!"

"Hey Nar, how is everything?" Nara watched as her sister stretched out on her stomach on her bed, blowing a strand of hair out out of her eyes. The girl looked exhausted, and was covered in dust.

"What have you been doing? Playing in the dirt?" Shirah glared at her, and the girl swallowed. "Sorry. So what were you doing?"

"We started the first day of our excavation at Masada today... so, how is filming goi-"

"And... why did you not stay in a hotel near the Dead..."

"Nara, what are you avoiding?" The young girl's eyes widened in shock. "Do not look at me like that. You are my baby sister, I know when you are trying to avoid a question or conversation. Now come on, tell me what happened."

A moment passed, before the younger girl crumpled back against her pillows, pulling her knees to her chest. She bit her lip, before whispering, "I... had my first kiss."

Shirah furrowed a brow. "Ah... I think we had a minor disconnect, Nar, what did you say?"

"I... I had my first kiss."

"No way." Slowly, Nara nodded. "That is great! With who?"

"Um... Daniel. In the hotel elevator."

"Daniel..." It took a moment as Shirah struggled to place the name of the young man. "Daniel Rodriguez? The actor playing Amram?" The girl nodded again. "Ah... Nar, he... he is_ eighteen_. You know that if _Ima_ and _Abba_ find out, they will not let you see him-"

"It is not like we are dating, Shi, it was just a kiss! Nothing serious is happening-"

"But even so, Nar, if _Ima_ and _Abba_ find out, you know how they will react. _Ima_ will interrogate him so _Abba_ cannot. You know they do not want you dating-"

"But Shi, I am_ sixteen_, not six! Just because neither you nor Yoni dated at sixteen does not mean that I cannot-"

"That does not matter, Nara! He is eighteen, he is to old for you! And if you tell-" But her sister was immediately cut off.

_"Hey!"_ Nara looked up to find G standing in front of the bed._ "What was that for?"_ He held out his phone.

"Your parents are on the phone. They want to talk to you."


	20. Chapter 20

**Rifiuto: N****on Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 19.**

_Dulles Airport,_

_Washington, D.C._

"Let her go."

_"No." _

"Baby, you _have_ to let her go."

"No. Do not make me,_ please_."

"She's going to miss her flight-"

"I do not care-"

"_Ziva_."

"It is okay, _Abba_. I do not want _Ima_ to let go."

"... _Ani ohevet otakh, motek."_

"I love you, too, _Ima_."

"... Ziva, we have to let her go. We can't let her stay. You know that."

"So you would have me let her go, just as I let you go that day in Tel Aviv?"

"... Yes."

"So you... you would rather my heart shatter than to remain whole?"

"Ziva, baby, that's not what I_ meant_-"

"Then what did you _mean, Timothy_?"

Yoni wrapped her arms tight around her mother's waist, resting her head on Ziva's chest. Despite her excitement at going to Syria, the girl was going to miss her parents terribly, no matter how crazy they drove her. She snuggled as close to her mother as she possibly could, burying her face in her mother's chest, trying her hardest to memorize the sound of Ziva's heartbeat. She wanted to remember the smell of her mother's jasmine perfume, and the feel of her arms around her, and the beat of her heart and the rush of her blood within her mother's veins, so that she could sleep and feel as though her mother's arms were still around her.

Tim sighed. They stood in the area near the loading dock, bidding Yoni goodbye before she boarded her flight for Syria. Only Ziva wouldn't let her go.

"Look, I'm not any happier about this than you are, baby, but we promised. And if we don't let her go now, she's going to miss her flight and hate us for the rest of her life. And ours."

"I could never hate you,_ Abba_. I love you, both of you." Yoni replied, looking up at her mother as she rested her chin against her mother's breast. Gently, Ziva brushed her fingers through the girl's hair, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, _ahuva_." Yoni sniffled, taking a deep breath. "We have something for you, Yonaleh."

The teenager turned to her father, confused. "What is it?" Slowly, Ziva removed a small, wrapped package from her bag, holding it out to the girl. A moment passed, before Yoni slowly opened it. "_The Dovekeepers_."

"It is tradition, and we will not be there-"

_"Oh, toda, Ima!"_ Ziva laughed softly.

"Open the book, _ahuva_, go on." The teenager glanced between her parents, before opening the book; it fell open to the center of the novel. Resting inside, was a necklace. Slowly, the girl lifted it from the center of the book; the charms flashed in the sunlight. Her brow furrowed.

"A... an Irish flag, Celtic knots and a number eight, a Hamesh hand, a Celtic griffin, dove, Jewish star, and ?"

"The hand protects against the evil eye, the number eight is for new beginnings, the griffin for protection-"

"The knots are for luck, strength and courage, the dove to remind you that we love you, the flag to remind you of the Irish in your blood, and and the Star to remind you of the strength of the Israeli blood in your veins-"

"Oh, it is beautiful..." Without another word, Yoni threw her arms around her mother's neck, before doing the same to her father. Silently, Tim took the necklace, draping it over her neck and clasping it. She turned to him, reaching up to caress the charms. "I love it, _toda_." Her arms went around Tim's neck and she buried her head in his shoulder, tears coming to her eyes. He chuckled softly, squeezing his daughter and pressing a kiss to her head. Silently, he set her back on her feet, taking her face in his hands.

"You call us when you get there, so we know you got in okay. And if you need anything or just... just want to talk or hear our voices, you call us, okay, baby girl? Doesn't matter if we're out on a case or not, _Ima_ and I will pick up. That's a promise."

"Okay." She nodded, tears in her eyes. "_Abba, Ani ohevet ot'cha."_

_"Ani ohev otach_. So, so much." He pressed one last kiss to her head before pulling away. He pulled Ziva into his side as Yoni grabbed her things and left, rushing to join the others going on the trip; however, she stopped, turning back to wave goodbye.

Two hours later, Ziva crawled under the covers of their bed, snuggling into her husband's side. Coming home to a quiet apartment had startled both of them; the fact that all three of their girls were now gone, off living their own lives, was a shock to both Tim and Ziva. Tim had made a cup of coffee and slipped off to the bedroom, settling back on the bed to study the ceiling; and after checking her e-mail, Ziva had followed.

"It's too quiet."

She looked up at him. "I thought you wanted quiet, Timothy?"

"I did, but..." He sighed, shifting onto his side. "But I've been a father for the last _twenty years_, baby, and I... now I can't imagine how we ever stood it being just us in the apartment." Ziva shifted to face him, reaching up to cradle his cheek. "Now that our girls are gone... how do we adjust to it being just us again?"

"I do not know." She sighed, moving close and wrapping her arms around him. "Can you believe we ever wanted children?"

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest and she buried her face in his shirt. "There are times when I asked myself why I even wanted to be married." She lifted her head, and he smiled softly, reaching up and thumbing her bottom lip. "And then... I'd wake up at... four in the morning for my run and... find you wrapped around me... an later, find the girls curled up in bed with us or... come home from wrapping up a case when you'd left early to find the apartment mess and the girls playing in the living room or doing their homework at the dining room table... or... go to bed and find melted chocolate on the sheets and pillow cases or find dolls on the floor of the shower or... crayons scattered over the desk in the study and... realize that... that chaos is the whole reason I got married in the first place. Because I wanted us to be together, with babies of our own."

Ziva swallowed thickly, kissing him firmly. "Do you... remember when we... came back from dinner that night when Abby babysat? And Shirah had... convinced her that it was okay that she could play with my makeup, and so they got all dressed up in the clothes from our closet and put my makeup on and... put a little play?" She choked on a sob. "I was so angry at Shirah for manipulating Abby and at Abby for being manipulated by a nine-year-old... and they got makeup everywhere..."

"We had to throw out the sheets and half our closet, if I remember correctly. And I yelled at Abby while you yelled at Shirah... I'd never seen Abby's lower lip quiver like I did that night." Ziva nodded.

"Shiraleh did not speak to me for a week... but those pictures... and the stories..." She sniffled, reaching up and wiping at the tears on her cheeks. Tim pulled her close, as she broke down. "I would do it all again... _I want my babies, Tim. I want them back in my arms..._"

He brushed a kiss to her head. "So do I, Ziva. So do I."


End file.
